


An' It Harm None, Do What Ye Will

by intotheruins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Castiel, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Fae & Fairies, Magic, Multi, Outdoor Sex, Sibling Incest, Winjimstiel, Witch Castiel, Witch Jimmy, dcjbb, dcjbb2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-26 02:35:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10777683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intotheruins/pseuds/intotheruins
Summary: People are disappearing into a forest outside a small town in northern Michigan, and they aren’t coming back out. When Sam and Dean question the locals, they’re told all kinds of tales about the different fae folk who live in the woods, and nearly all of them could be responsible. In the end, they have no choice but to go into the forest themselves.The trees speak. Pixies giggle at them from sunbeams and mutated fae attack without warning, and the forest won’t let them leave. The only safe place is the home of a pair of witch twins who save them from a kelpie, but even their protections might not be enough to keep the forest out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you SO MUCH to [castielsstar](http://castielsstar.tumblr.com) for the beta!! <3<3
> 
> Also thank you to [kuwlshadow](http://kuwlshadow.tumblr.com) who made the AWESOME art (I LOVE THE KELPIE SO MUCH!!!!) Reblog the art [HERE](http://kuwlshadow.tumblr.com/post/160374654523/titlean-it-harm-none-do-what-ye-will-author) (seriously, go reblog it, that kelpie needs to be spread all over tumblr, okay? Okay. :D)
> 
> So, this story was supposed to be somewhere between 5k-7k. It ended up being over 30k, and honestly, it could probably use at least another 5k, but I ran out of time. Hopefully it's still readable :D.

 

“Jimmy!”

The broken end of a dead branch plunged into dirt and dying leaves. “I'm trying!” Jimmy hissed. The circle he drew was jagged and uneven—it would have to do. He tossed the branch aside and caught the wand his brother threw to him in the same motion. “Is it done?”

“ Yes.” Castiel flung an empty glass jar to the ground. The dried rowan berries that had been stored inside now formed a second circle just outside the one Jimmy had drawn. The jar rolled down the slope, coming to rest against the bulbous root of an old white oak. It was careless—they were  _ never  _ so careless—but they'd never been in a situation quite like this.

The twins went still. Castiel tilted his head to listen, a motion so familiar that even in this situation it made a quick flit of a grin skitter over Jimmy's lips. The silence that greeted them was, for lack of a better word,  _ wrong.  _ They lived in these woods, knew all the subtle sounds of dozens of birds, the trill of the crickets, and the whispered language of the old trees. The very air beat with the heart of magic—there was never such stillness.

A sound like thunder rumbled through the ground. Jimmy staggered into his twin, one hand coming up to grasp his shoulder as both their eyes widened. It came again, followed by a shrill scream that vaguely resembled the neighing of a horse—the same one they'd heard just before they began to form the circle.

Dirt and leaves jostled with each new rumble, threatening to erase their protections. Only their magic kept the rings from breaking.

“Cas,” Jimmy managed through a tight throat, and Castiel nodded. They joined hands, tangling their fingers and closing their eyes. Neither saw the shine of pale blue light that pooled into the circle, but neither needed to. They'd done this a thousand times, knew the exact shade of their shared color and the power it was given when they used it together.

The creature came crashing out of the forest, the ground bucking beneath its weight. Castiel and Jimmy fell, crying out, refusing to release each other's hands even as they hit the ground. Jimmy's chin collided with Castiel's chest; he heard the  _ whuff  _ of his twin's breath being forced from his body and then the  _ smell  _ washed over him—stagnant water and rotting greenery, pouring down his throat. He gagged and buried his face in Castiel's shirt to try and stifle it.

He felt Castiel's chest rise sharply on a harsh breath, heard the soft exhale of, “Oh, Gaia,” and opened his eyes.

The creature pawing at the edge of their circle might have been a kelpie, once. It was the same shape, the same hollow, black eyes and greenish tinge to the mane and tail, but it was massive, at least three times the usual size. The stench rolling off its breath in a visible distortion of air was overwhelming. It was dangerously close, far closer than it should have been able to get to the protection of the rowan berries.

Desperate, Jimmy shoved his free hand into his twin's coat pocket. His fist closed around a handful of bagged herbs—thank Gaia for Cas and his obsessive need to carry the basics everywhere.

“What are you thinking?” Castiel gasped. He gagged on a too-deep inhale of the smell, tipped to the side to retch even though nothing came up. The kelpie shrieked and he shrunk back, pressing himself against his twin. “Tell me you're thinking something.”

“Creative one, remember?” Jimmy panted. “Sage, burdock, vervain, what the... are these iron chips?”

“Just in case,” Castiel replied, voice tight as he fought back another retch. “What...?”

Jimmy didn't answer. Heaving himself up onto his knees, Jimmy resolutely ignored the massive hoof mere feet away and upended the burdock and sage right there in the dirt. The iron chips came next, mixed quickly into the herbs and dead leaves that became caught up between his fingers. Fine, it was fine, he could use whatever power the old forest would give him.

Without looking, Jimmy thrust out his right hand. Immediately it was grasped by Castiel's left, reconnecting them to their shared magic. There was no time for words, so Jimmy held out the wand and poured every ounce of his will into the herbs and earth, sent them flying out into the circle. The kelpie reared, hooves pawing at the air, shrieking when it brushed against the mixture of protective magic and iron.

Jimmy tightened his grip around Castiel's hand. He clenched his teeth against an urge tickling at the back of his mind, and felt an answering squeeze from Castiel's hand.

“We might—” Castiel began.

“No,” Jimmy interrupted. “We swore we'd never go there again.”

Slowly, Castiel sat up. His eyes were narrow, gaze fixed on the kelpie. He lifted his hand.

“Cas,” Jimmy warned.

“I won't,” Castiel murmured, and then he sent out a surge of magic that pushed the protection out of the circle. It lashed out until the kelpie let loose a scream and whirled, charging back into the forest.

With twin punches of breath too violent to be truly relieved, the brothers fell back into the dirt and allowed the magic to disperse. The rowan berries remained, a reassuring circle of red that Jimmy found himself staring at until he had to turn, had to roll to the side and bury his face in the warmth of Castiel's throat just to feel the throb of his pulse beneath his lips.

“I'm okay,” Castiel said, but his own fingers were searching, pressing in to find Jimmy's pulse. “We need to go.”

Jimmy nodded. He breathed in deep, dirt and dead leaves and the faintest hint of sandalwood, before he began to scramble upright.

They retrieved the bottle and recovered as many berries as they could before they fled, racing north towards home and all its various protections.

Neither spoke of what came next. Neither of them knew.

~

“So get this.”

Dean used to keep a tally of how many times Sam used that particular phrase as a case conversation starter. He'd long since lost count, but he liked to think it was well into the quadruple digits by now. Tossing the remote aside, Dean stretched his arms up and rolled his head to work the crick out of his neck before he slid off the bed, coming to stand behind Sam's chair at the table by the door. “What's up?”

Sam nodded towards the laptop screen. “Gathering, Michigan. Seventeen people have gone missing in the last two months, in a town that has less than ten thousand people. They're right up against the woods so some of them could have been hiking accidents, but that's still way too high.”

“Wendigo?” Dean ventured. It was the right area for one.

“Could be,” Sam agreed. “Should make sure we have enough flares, just in case.”

They were flying down an old highway just an hour later when Sam said, “Dude, I don't think it's a wendigo.”

Great, of course not. It was never that simple anymore. Heaving a sigh, Dean turned down the radio. “Why not?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see Sam scrolling through a page on his phone. How the hell he had enough signal to get online when they'd left civilization behind a good seventy miles ago was beyond him. Sam  _ always  _ had signal—he was like his own personal wifi hotspot.

“According to the history of this town, there's nothing to indicate the twenty-three-year cycle of a wendigo. People have gone missing at random a few times, but it's spread out over decades. Never this many people at once, and there's no pattern. One was a little girl, another was a guy in his 80s.

“So, definitely not a wendigo,” Dean admitted reluctantly.

“ No,  _ but.  _ The locals have all kinds of local lore about faery folk living in the woods, there's even an article about some of the older locals who leave offerings by the trees to keep the fae from coming into town.”

“Fae?” Dean repeated. “Really? I mean I know some of that's out there, but we don't run into it much.”

Sam shrugged. “It's looking like the best explanation so far. The problem is there's a ton of stuff that could have taken these people. We'll need to get a better look at the place, talk to some of the locals directly.”

There was a pause. Dean guided the Impala around a corner, and then let out a sudden chuckle, shaking his head. “Man, how the hell are we gonna go in with this one? Can't exactly pull a Mulder and Scully.”

Sam frowned down at his phone before letting out a little chuckle of his own. “Writers? That's worked for ghosts before.”

“Sounds good.” They could get away with a lot of weird questions as writers. Sometimes they'd get funny looks, but people just assumed they had wild imaginations and usually went with it. “Have we ever actually dealt with anything like this before?”

Another frown furrowed Sam's brow. The thoughtful one, the kind that made his eyes go all squinty. It was a relief to see him like this—after the Croatoan case, and Dean's confession not long after, Sam had become a constant of dark, distant eyes and nightmares that made him scream. This, though, this was familiar, just Sam on the job, Sam putting that massive brain of his to use, Sam focused on anything but all the  _ bad  _ surrounding them lately.

Leaving one hand on the wheel, Dean reached out blindly with his right and scruffed his fingers through Sam's ridiculous hair.

“What the hell, man!” Sam yelped, trying to duck away. Dean only laughed and curled his fingers in—Sam had seriously soft hair. It was actually kinda nice.

“You're so cute when you're thinking,” Dean teased, laying it on thick just to hear Sam scoff.

“Shut up, you suck,” Sam grumbled, but he was laughing a second later as he dislodged Dean's hand and flung it back at him. “Other than the unicorn we dealt with when I was thirteen, I don't think we've ever taken any cases with the fae. They're kinda elusive.”

“Well,” Dean said with a shrug, “At least it'll be something new.”

~

“Okay, screw new,” Dean snapped four hours later.

Sam was laughing so hard there were tears streaming down his cheeks. He stumbled out of the house behind Dean, one hand braced on his brother's shoulder and the other clutching his side. Dean rolled his eyes and stomped towards the Impala, twirling the keys sharply over his index finger but never quite finding the will to shrug Sam off. It was always nice when Sam touched him, reassuring, no matter if it was a friendly touch or the bruising grip that came with a close call.

“Your face!” Sam gasped, finally letting Dean go so he could climb into the passenger seat. He only laughed harder when Dean snarled and slammed his own door closed.

“It wasn't that funny,” Dean muttered, jamming the key in the ignition. The Impala roared to life and Dean relaxed a fraction, stroking his fingers over the wheel. “You wouldn't laugh at me, baby, would you?”

He went to back out of the (fucking insane) old woman's driveway, but paused halfway through the action, his eyes going slightly wide. Sam was leaning against the door, floppy hair smashed against the window, mouth open to gulp down air between gasps of laughter that had grown so forceful it was nearly silent. His eyes were squeezed shut and his face was red, and he looked... ridiculous, totally ridiculous, god, Dean loved him.

Dean blinked. Then he shook himself, tried to stuff the feeling in a corner somewhere, but it got stuck somewhere in his chest. He sighed to cover up a laugh, and finally backed out onto the road.

That was the sixth interview they'd done since arriving in town. The writing cover was working well, and people seemed more than happy to share the local lore. Except a couple of them, the latest woman included, were certain the tales were real. And sure, to an extent they were right... but Dean was pretty damn sure gnomes and leprechauns were different creatures, he knew for a  _ fact  _ that unicorns were assholes, and he definitely, absolutely, in no  _ fucking way  _ was “pretty enough” to “offer” himself up to some douche called Oberon.

“ _ Oh my god _ ,” Sam gasped, like he could read everything Dean was thinking in the deep furrow of his glare.

“ Shut up!” Dean growled. He turned into the first motel he saw—A Midsummer Night's Sleep,  _ seriously?  _ “ We are not getting any info that way!”

Sam made a garbled noise that might have been an attempt at speech. A deep breath and a shake of his head followed before he managed to get out, “Oh come on, Dean. I bet Oberon would tell us everything about this case once he got a look at... a-at...”

He dissolved into giggles again. Dean left him in the car and went to get a room.

He probably grumbled a bit too loudly about keeping his  _ perky ass  _ away from perverted faeries, if the wide-eyed look the desk clerk gave him was anything to go by.

The little shit was still chuckling when Dean let them into their room. It was done up in dark greens and browns, and was surprisingly clean considering it was only $40 a night. It even  _ smelled  _ clean, just the faint tang of pine that Dean assumed came from whatever cleaning product they used. Definitely a nice change, and it put Dean in enough of a better mood to chuckle along when Sam grinned at him.

While Sam got his laptop set up on the table by the window—nice, stained oak, way sturdier than they were used to seeing in places like this—Dean dug his phone out of his pocket to check the time. It was getting late, too late to go and check out the forest.

“Food?” Dean suggested.

“Sure,” Sam replied absently. “I saw a diner right across the road.”

He didn't so much as glance up from his laptop. With a roll of his eyes, Dean slammed it closed, unplugged it, and raced outside with it before Sam could so much as sputter out a proper protest.

It was Dean's turn to laugh as Sam chased him all the way into the diner, cursing loudly right up until Dean surrendered the computer. The waitress glanced up with a raised eyebrow, but when she saw Sam sit down with a huff, protectively clutching his laptop, she laughed.

“Did you steal his computer?” she asked in a teasing tone when she brought them menus.

Dean grinned. She was cute—dirty blond hair cut short and spiky, round face, leaning a little towards the heavy side. Bright, gray eyes crinkled when she grinned back, no shyness there.

“ I had to get him to the food somehow,” Dean said with a shrug. His eyes flicked down to the name tag pinned to her shirt.  _ Ceridwen.  _ He frowned, wondering if that C was hard or soft, but Sam came to his rescue before he could open his mouth and potentially make a fool of himself.

“Ceridwen, that's the name of a Celtic goddess, isn't it?”

Hard C, got it.

“Yeah, good job!” She turned a bit towards Sam, and Dean slumped back in his seat—cock-blocked again by the nerd and his giant brain. “Most out-of-towners don't have a clue.”

"Well, we're writers," Sam said, leaning in just a bit and turning on the puppy eyes. Dean swore Sam could get anything with those eyes—at least, he definitely could get anything from Dean, damn him. "We found some interesting stories about the forest here, so we thought we'd check it out. Does your name have anything to do with local lore?"

Ceridwen shook her head. "Nah, my parents were just crazy about all that stuff. And hey, can't go wrong being named after a goddess, right? If you guys are after stories, just talk to any of the older folks in town. Except Mrs. Keller, she's kinda crazy."

Well, that was information they could have used an hour ago. Dean leveled a narrow glare at Sam, who didn't even glance at him. "Too late," Sam said with a chuckle. "We already talked to her."

"Oh god, I'm so sorry." Ceridwen laughed. "She's totally sweet and harmless, but definitely off her rocker. Anyway, what can I get you?"

They ordered—Dean his usual burger, Sam some kind of skinless chicken disaster—and Sam flipped his laptop back open. "They're up to eighteen people missing now," Sam said after some clicks and scrolling. "Every single one of them vanished near or in the forest."

"So, we're probably just gonna have to go in there," Dean said with a shrug.

"Yeah, great," Sam sighed. "We're going to need iron. Silver wouldn't hurt, either."

"Will our guns work?"

Sam frowned. "Probably not. Iron isn't usually used to make bullets. We have silver bullets, we can try those, and we have a couple iron knives."

Ceridwen came back with their food. She smiled at them both, though her eyes lingered on Sam as she backed away. The smile Sam gave her in return was big and bright, and totally clueless, and it made Dean grin like a complete moron.

"What?" Sam asked. When Dean just laughed, Sam threw a green bean at him. " _ What? _ "

"Nothing," Dean insisted, and buried his grin in his bacon cheeseburger.

~

They headed into the forest late the next morning.

Dean had done quite a lot of hiking in his life. From survival training to wendigo hunts to vampire nests hidden away in the mountains, he'd traipsed his way through forests all across the states, each with its own unique feel and species of trees (and all other manner of flora). He wasn't overly fond of it—hiking was okay, and camping out for a night could be fun, but he'd never be one of those people who disappeared into the woods for weeks at a time. He was way too attached to hot showers and greasy diner food and, most of all, the Impala.

So when he and Sam headed down the first trail they saw, winding through a weirdly thick patch of oaks (Dean could have sworn he once read that oaks needed space to grow), Dean wasn't expecting much, except to maybe catch a clue to whatever the fuck they were dealing with.

The canopy of leaves that arched over their heads—already changed to their fiery autumn colors, but only just beginning to fall—was thick, throwing them into shadow. Only small patches of sunlight streamed through to touch the earth, and Dean would swear he saw things inside the beams; things that moved, and giggled, and weren't much bigger than his hand. He'd blink a few times, shake his head, and they were gone, only the bell-like sound of laughter left ringing in his ears.

They'd pause beneath a particularly large tree, usually one of the gnarled old oaks, and Dean would feel eyes watching him from the thick patches of shadow. Once, he saw bright green eyes slide away into a fir tree, sinking right inside the bark. He glanced at Sam and saw his brother's wide eyes fixed on the same place.

“I... I think that was a Greenman,” Sam breathed.

“Greenman? Is that our monster?”

“No, no,” Sam said quickly, turning to face Dean. His gaze was closer to awed than afraid, and Dean relaxed the hand that had automatically gone to his gun. “They're more like guardians, actually seeing one is really rare. And it does confirm that we're probably dealing with fae.”

Dean adjusted his grip to the iron knife at his belt. “Keep going?”

Sam nodded, and pulled out his own iron blade.

Dean swore the trees started murmuring right about then.

“Dude, this place is freaky,” Dean muttered. He watched the branches over his head sway, leaves brushing against each other in a wind that was either too high to feel... or wasn't there at all.

Sam gave a sharp nod, fingers flexing around the hilt of his knife.

They kept walking, sticking to the path. An hour ticked by, two, three. Twice more Dean heard bell-like laughter. Pixies, Sam offered at one point, and Dean didn't know whether to laugh or start slashing.

The trees were rustling loudly now, every branch Dean could see weaving and brushing leaves together. Something about it felt frantic, made a rush of adrenaline zing down his spine. His hand snapped out to wrap around Sam's wrist, tugging him in closer... and the fact that Sam  _ let  _ him made Dean freeze, eyes widening as he tried to take in everything at once, find the threat, kill it, don't let it touch Sammy...

Something screamed, shrill and loud. Dean whirled, knife raised.

What crashed out of the woods kind of looked like a horse—if horses were twelve feet tall, green and stank of swamp. Dean went from feeling like he had a weapon to defend himself with to realizing he was basically wielding a toothpick in less than a second. The thing shrieked again and Dean staggered back, gagging on a wave of rotting stench. Sam gasped and fell to his knees beside him, hand snapping out to wrap itself in Dean's jacket. It took him a moment to realize Sam was tugging.

“What...?” Dean started, but Sam tugged again and Dean went down beside him. “The hell?”

The thing was charging them now, eyes blazing in a way that was far too literal for Dean's taste... and then Sam was pulling an iron chain from his coat pocket, letting it spill out onto the ground and wrapping it quickly around them in a circle.

If Dean could just breathe, he'd tell Sam how amazingly smart he was.

Dean scrambled back when the horse came to a stop just outside the circle, hoof pawing so violently at the ground that the chain rattled. “Tell me you know what this thing is!” he managed to choke out. “And how to kill it!”

“Kelpie, I think.” The thing screamed and Sam's arm flew out, fingers tangling in Dean's shirt. “I—”

Sam was cut off by a shout behind them. Dean rolled half on top of Sam, pinning him protectively like that would do any good against the new threat as he reached for his gun. Something surged over his head, striking the kelpie and making it shriek. It reared up on its hind legs, front legs tearing at the air before it whirled around and crashed back into the woods.

Gasping in relief, Dean let his head briefly droop onto Sam's shoulder before he exploded upwards, knife tucked back into his pants and gun at the ready.

Two men—two  _ twins— _ stood just a few feet away. They were holding hands, and both were tightly gripping what looked suspiciously like wands. It would have been almost impossible to tell them apart, except that one was wearing an oversized, tan trench coat over a Metallica t-shirt, while the other had a blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up.

Huh. Metallica. They couldn't be that bad.

Sam was standing beside him now. He had his own knife put away and his gun in his hand, but his arm was hanging loose at his side, barrel pointed downward. Visible and ready to strike but, for now, non-threatening. Dean mirrored him—he'd never heard of good witches or magic before, but then again he'd never seen an actual wand, either.

The twins were just... staring at them. Blue Shirt's eyes were wide, almost shocked, while Metallica's were narrow and calculating.

Dean was just about to break the silence with a bad joke when Blue Shirt abruptly flailed so hard he dropped his wand and released his twin's hand. It took Dean a second to realize he was flapping both hands in the general direction of the iron chain.

“That, that is... which one of you came up with that?!” he stopped waving his hands and looked wildly between the two of them, something like a grin starting to bloom across his face.

“Uh... I did,” Sam said hesitantly.

The guy pointed straight at him. His smile was... kind of blinding, actually. “You are a genius! Cas!” Blue Shirt whipped around and backhanded his twin across the shoulder. The one in the trench coat—Cas, apparently—staggered back a step and glared. “Why didn't we ever think of that?”

“I don't know,” Cas answered. His voice was deeper than his twin's, rougher. “You're the creative one.”

The other guy chuckled and ducked his head briefly. “True. Anyway!” He whirled back to the Winchesters. “You guys are hunters!”

The lack of a questioning lilt made one of Dean's eyebrows arch in curiosity. “Yeah, but I'm gonna take a wild stab here and say you guys  _ aren't. _ ”

Blue Shirt shook his head. “We're witches. But not  _ those  _ kinds of witches, white magic only. I'm Jimmy, and this is Castiel. We've known you might come through here for almost a year now.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak again, but out of the corner of his eye he caught Sam...  _ bouncing on his toes,  _ what the hell? He was practically vibrating, lips quivering in a thin line that meant he was holding in a wave of words. He'd even put away his gun. Bit premature in Dean's opinion, but Sam was usually a pretty good judge of people, so he shrugged and tucked his own back into his jeans.

“Go ahead,” Dean muttered, poking Sam in the arm, almost laughing when Sam lunged forward.

Dean scooped up the chain, half listening to Sam rambling about divination and tarot cards and a bunch of other stuff he didn't really understand. He looked up to see Jimmy—what the hell, how did one end up with a normal name like Jimmy and the other  _ Castiel?— _ speaking just as rapidly, holding out the wand he'd dropped for Sam to examine. Castiel's eyes widened a fraction and he tucked his own up his sleeve, which for some reason made Dean snort.

“So, if you knew we were coming,” Dean said as he approached. “Then do you know what the hell that was? Why the kelpie attacked us?”

Sam and Jimmy didn't even pause for breath. With a fond roll of his eyes, Castiel stepped forward— _ right  _ into Dean's space, wow, okay. Dean leaned back a bit, both eyebrows arching this time. Castiel blinked, tipping his head in a way that reminded Dean of a confused puppy, before he let out a soft, “Oh,” and took a single step back.

“My apologies,” he said quietly. “I'm told I have no sense of personal space. To answer your question, we didn't know for certain you were coming. The future isn't carved in stone. A single action can change a person's course, which can in turn change the course of many. Divination is one of my strong suits, so I'm often able to pick out the strongest paths—which means I was fairly certain you would show up, but not positive. As for what's happening now, we know only what the trees know.”

Dean really wanted to pat himself on the back for keeping up with all of that... right up until that last sentence, anyway. “The hell does that mean?”

Castiel chuckled. “They've witnessed certain of the fae who live here mutating. That kelpie you saw was much larger than average and much more violent. They are usually subtle when luring in their prey. I...  _ Jimmy! _ ”

Castiel had turned to glance at his twin, and his eyes immediately widened in outrage. When Dean looked, all he saw was Jimmy grinning and Sam carefully handling his wand.

“Oh, it's fine,” Jimmy said distractedly, waving one hand towards his brother. “I'll purify it later. Besides, Sam here has fantastic energy.”

“I don't... that's not the point,” Castiel grumbled. When Jimmy ignored him, he sighed and turned back to Dean. “You two should come with us. We were attacked by that same kelpie yesterday, and there are other mutations in the forest. Our house and some of the land around it is safe.”

“No, we're good,” Dean said, shaking his head. “Thanks for the help, but we'll just head back to town, see if we can find something on... mutated faeries, or whatever.”

“We've got a better chance of finding the issue here, Dean,” Sam objected. Carefully, he handed Jimmy his wand back. “I'm pretty certain we won't find an answer to this in a book.”

Dean hesitated. He glanced at Castiel, who was staring at him with wide, solemn eyes, like he could see right down into Dean's soul and that was... creepy, but also strangely reassuring. In his experience, eyes like that couldn't hide any real threat. Besides, he was wearing a Metallica t-shirt!

Jimmy appeared to be just the opposite, full of energy and smiles. Yet his eyes were also wide and unguarded, and he met Dean's stare with an ease that soothed the part of the hunter that was always on alert, always ready for a fight,  _ always  _ prepared to protect Sammy.

So he sighed, loudly—he had to at least pretend to resist—and gave a single nod. “Okay. Sam, let's get the Impala and check out. You guys have somewhere we can park her?”

Castiel said, “Possibly,” at the same time Jimmy demanded, “ _ What year? _ ”

Dean blinked. Sam chuckled and reached out to guide Castiel a few steps away with a hand to his shoulder. Dean didn't miss the way Castiel twisted his head to stare at that hand, and he found himself turning partially sideways to keep an eye on the witch even as he answered, “'67.”

“Ohhhhh, please let me come with you,” Jimmy breathed. “We don't have cars, we don't need them, but I always fell in love with the classics on TV.”

One loved Metallica and one had an appreciation for classic cars; they couldn't be evil. “Sure, why not,” Dean agreed, clapping Jimmy on the shoulder. “I never miss a chance to show off my baby.”

Sam was already starting off down the trail. Dean went to catch up, but paused when he spotted Castiel reaching out to take Jimmy's hand with a casual ease that said this was something they did often—which seemed a little odd, considering they were brothers.

Okay, so he'd held Sammy's hand before, plenty of times, but they'd been kids. Dean stopped doing that when he was fifteen and John told him he was too old for that kind of thing.

Then again, someone had to tell him that it wasn't okay. Maybe Cas and Jimmy didn't have anyone to tell them.

Jimmy chattered away about classic cars as they walked, a constant background noise that Dean only half paid attention to. There was something off, something just outside his awareness. He saw the moment Sam realized it, saw his shoulders stiffen and his hand go to the gun tucked in the back of his jeans. Jimmy's voice cut off abruptly. Dean felt something hum along his skin, the hairs rising along his arms and the back of his neck, and when he glanced back he saw both witches had their wands in their hands.

"Sam!" Dean quickened his pace, reached out to curl a hand around his brother's bicep. Sam came to an easy stop, let Dean step ahead but not too far. He crowded in against Dean's shoulder, one hand on his gun and the other warm in the small of Dean's back.

"Dean." Sam nodded towards the trees, a motion Dean could only just make out in the corner of his eye. "See that oak with the knot partway up the trunk?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember that tree."

Dean frowned, but he nodded and let Sam's hand guide him into walking again.

Within twenty steps, they were back beside that tree.

"Shit," Dean swore. "So, what, the forest isn't gonna let us out?"

"Looks like it," Sam said tightly. His hand still on his gun, his eyes darting around for a solid target. He turned to face the twins. "Do you guys know what this is?"

Jimmy shook his head. Castiel wasn't even looking at them—his eyes were unfocused, his thumb rubbing absently along his wand as he stared into the trees. When Dean opened his mouth to ask what he was doing, Jimmy gave him a sharp look and shook his head.

They waited, Dean tapping his fingers impatiently against his leg, until Castiel drew in a sudden breath and blinked rapidly, eyes slowly coming back into focus.

"Anything?" Jimmy asked.

Castiel shook his head. "Nothing concrete. There was a sense of something thick and dark, like sap, but it smelled wrong. Whatever it is, it won't let us out."

"Great," Dean muttered. If anyone so much as looked at the Impala wrong before he got back to her... "So. I guess we're going to your place."

 


	2. Chapter 2

Sam had wondered about the potential existence of white magic ever since he learned about the supernatural world. The idea of something  _ good  _ mixed in with the monsters and the demons was very comforting to an eight-year-old whose world had just been crushed. When he'd eventually dared to ask, John had insisted that witches, and magic, were evil. Period.

Until now, Sam had never seen anything to change that belief. They didn't deal with many witches, but there were enough for him to see the animal sacrifices, the hex bags and the deals struck with Hell itself. Blood and bone and gore, and so much death. Black magic became the only magic in Sam's mind, but for one little spark of hope still lingering somewhere in the back of his mind.

That spark caught with greedy happiness at the idea of the twins.

Wands were something Sam had never seen before. They were simple, crooked things made from oak. If they hadn't been so carefully polished, they might have looked just like plain twigs that had snapped off the tree. Castiel appeared to have pockets full of herbs, if the little bags of what looked like lavender and maybe sage poking out of the top were anything to go by, and there was... an  _ energy  _ surrounding them both. They felt like the forest, which didn't make any sense even as Sam thought it, yet nothing else fit.

They just felt good.

Which was interesting, considering they were obviously twins and yet they were holding hands like they'd forgotten about it, like they were just an extension of each other.

Those kind of brothers?

Sam thought it should disturb him, negate the good feeling somehow. It didn't. If they lived out here, on their own, with only each other... well, it kind of made sense, if that was the case.

Of course, there could be a whole coven. Sam doubted it, though. He felt fairly certain that they would have mentioned it.

Still... "Is it just you two out here?"

"Yup," Jimmy answered. "We grew up here. We never knew our Dad; Mom died ten years ago. As far as anyone outside the town is concerned, we don't actually exist."

"So, off the grid, then?" Sam swallowed down a sigh. Dean was going to be impossible if he didn't at least have TV.

"Sort of," Jimmy said with a slow grin. "Magic has many uses."

"We have internet," Castiel added. "Mostly for Netflix. But no one can trace it out here.”

Okay, that was neat. Sam could sure as hell use that for his own laptop. He was very good at hiding as far as his internet usage was concerned, but to magic away any trace of it entirely would be a lot less stress.

"Does it work that way with power, too?" Sam asked, genuinely curious now.

They both nodded at the same time. Sam chuckled, reminded of how in sync he was with Dean.

The air seemed to lighten as they traveled deeper into the woods. One moment Sam felt as though a fog was dripping into his lungs, and the next he was able to pull in a breath of fresh air. Dean's shoulders visibly relaxed, and the hand that had been unconsciously raised towards his gun fell loosely at his side.

“We close?” Dean asked.

“Just another few feet,” Castiel replied, nodding ahead of them.

It was almost laughably obvious when they crossed the protections. Though Sam couldn't see a thing—not a single mark carved into a tree, or a line of any kind drawn into the earth—he felt something light and strangely soft shiver across his skin. A shudder rolled down his spine, and he found himself grinning for no reason in particular.

Dean, of course, reacted with suspicion. He froze, eyes darting warily over their surroundings, before he jerked around and barked, “What the hell was that?”

“That,” Jimmy said, waving one hand vaguely through the air. “Was white magic. Let me guess, you only have experience with black magic.”

Dean nodded. His eyes continued to wander for a moment before he finally shrugged and turned on his heel, stomping off like he'd never put up a fuss in the first place.

With a fond roll of his eyes, Sam fell into step beside Jimmy. “Our dad used to tell us there was no such thing as white magic,” Sam said. “But I've always hoped.”

“It's become very rare,” Castiel said. “We've never met another like us. Although, I suppose we don't exactly... get out much.”

Sam chuckled. “Well, Dean and I do. We've been all over the states, and you guys are the first we've met with white magic, so. I'd say rare is the right word.”

The trees began to thin. A few more yards and the group stepped out into a large, circular clearing of long yellow grass. A squat cabin was built roughly in the center. As far as Sam could tell, it had only one window a few feet to the left of the door, though he supposed there could have been more on the far side. A brick chimney was built up against the right side—Sam eyed it thoughtfully, imagining how soothing it might be out here in the quiet at night, with only the crickets and the crackle of a fire.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Dean would go crazy after a while. He might make it a week, so long as he had a TV or a radio, but after that the novelty of quiet would wear off and he'd be aching for the open road and the roar of the Impala.

The inside was only one room, with the exception of a single door in the far wall that Sam assumed led to a bathroom. A long counter divided the kitchen from what seemed to be a combination of a living room and a bedroom. To the left was an open fireplace with a stone hearth. A thick, black rug was thrown over the hardwood, a safe several inches from the hearth, and tucked under a double bed set along the opposite wall. A line of deep shelves along the same wall led to a rolltop desk under the window. Sam saw stones and feathers and what looked like decks of cards, but made himself look away before he got too caught up in curiosity.

To the left, there was a small nook carved into the corner with a sofa and an entertainment center. Decent sized TV, DVD player, and two collections of DVDs—one piled in a haphazard manner, corners sticking out at odd angles and threatening to pitch over at any second, while the other was sorted by genre on the bottom shelf of the center. Sam was relieved to spot more than a few action movies in the stack on the floor. At least Dean wouldn't go crazy, therefore driving Sam crazy with him.

There were no power outlets, but the DVD player's power light was glowing away in clear defiance. Sam really needed to get the twins to teach him how to do that. He'd never have to charge his laptop battery again.

“Beer?” Jimmy offered. He tossed his wand down carelessly on top of the desk, which Sam noted made Castiel's right eye twitch. “We have Guinness or Stella. If Cas is okay with sharing the Guinness, that is. Cas?”

“It's fine,” Castiel said, shrugging.

“I've never had either of those,” Sam said. “Dean?”

No response. Sam turned to find Dean eying the DVDs curiously and rolled his eyes.

“ _ Dean. _ ”

“Hm?” Dean leaned in like he was going to kneel down for a better inspection. He jumped when Sam punched him in the arm. “Ow! The hell, Sammy?”

Sam sighed. “Stella or Guinness, have you had either of those?”

“Oh.” Dean frowned thoughtfully. “I've had Guinness. It's pretty good. Better than the cheap crap we usually get.”

“Okay, cool.”

The clink of glass was the only warning Sam had before a bottle was flying through the air. It would have hit him in the head if he hadn't caught it with relative ease—he'd had worse things thrown at him, often in the name of training. He hardly had to think to catch the bottle. Dean barely even looked at his own, just casually caught it like he'd seen it coming even as he glanced subtly at Jimmy to see if he was impressed.

Which, judging by the widened eyes and low whistle, he was.

“Testing us?” Sam asked with an easy grin.

Jimmy grinned back. “Maybe. Mostly just curious. You can crack those open on the desk, just make sure you line it up with the other notches.”

It took a moment, but Sam found the notches along the right edge of the desk, scattered within just an inch or so of space. He cracked his beer open there, and watched Dean do the same with a little frown on his face.

“Can't damage the rest of the desk?” He asked lightly, like he was joking, but Sam could see the curiosity in his eyes.

“I wouldn't care,” Jimmy said with a shrug. He approached with two more bottles, cracking both open and handing the darker one to Castiel. “But it's Cas's desk, and he doesn't want them anywhere else.”

“It doesn't matter if you do it on the counters, though,” Castiel added. “That's shared space.”

A suspicion began to bloom in Sam's mind. He tucked it aside for now, and smiled instead. “Shared space can be damaged?”

“Yes,” Castiel answered, perfectly serious.

Interesting. Sam set the information alongside his suspicion. He'd keep watching for now, see if Castiel brought it up himself.

“ So.” Sam leaned back against the wall beside the desk and took a sip of his beer, which, damn, that  _ was  _ better than their usual. “What do you guys know?”

"We know there are fae behaving abnormally," Castiel answered immediately. "Or being mutated by dark magic. The kelpie you saw today was far too large and aggressive. Kelpies can be very dangerous, but they can also be docile if you know how to treat them. We also are aware of the people who have gone missing, we..." Castiel trailed off with a soft sigh. He bowed his head, then glanced up again after a moment. Avoiding eye contact, but if Sam's suspicions about him were correct that meant it had nothing to do with trying to hide anything. "We're fairly certain those people are dead."

"What makes you think that?" Dean asked. His voice was low, and he had one hand tucked into his back pocket, near his gun—he hadn't decided to trust them yet, but he wasn't feeling uncomfortable. If he had, his hand would have been free and much closer to his weapon.

"We saw one of them,” Jimmy said with a wince, and Sam dragged his attention back to the conversation. “Charlie, he runs... ran... the hardware store in town. He comes out all the time to hike, so we bump into him a lot when we're out. We saw him a week ago, and he just... it was like the trees snatched him up and he just  _ vanished _ . It's possible they've been taken somewhere, but if so we haven't been able to find them."

"Do you have any idea what could cause any of this?" Sam asked.

As one, Jimmy and Castiel shook their heads. "The only thing we can think is maybe it's some kind of Fae," Jimmy said. "We've been asking around, but nothing yet."

“I was considering doing another reading today,” Castiel said, nodding towards the desk. When Sam turned to look he saw a large deck of cards, neatly stacked and sitting in the very center of the top shelf. “It hasn't been very helpful, but now that you've arrived it might reveal something new.”

For a moment, Sam considered asking about that. What had Castiel's reading said, exactly, about Sam and Dean's potential arrival? He opened his mouth, but the way Castiel's eyes cut to the side when he mentioned the reading made him pause. Even Jimmy cleared his throat and scuffed one toe into the floor, though his eyes went to Castiel's coat rather than off to the side. Sam followed his gaze and saw Castiel rubbing a large card between his fingertips, just the first inch or so sticking up out of his pocket.

Which, Sam was pretty sure that had been full of herbs a second ago. He frowned and leaned forward, trying to get a better look, startling a bit when Castiel chuckled.

“I spelled them,” he said, grinning. He pushed the card down and it disappeared, but Sam decided not to press. “A bit like Mary Poppin's bag.”

“Oh, man, I want that on the trunk of the Impala!” Dean said enthusiastically. “Can you teach us?”

“Probably, it's not a difficult spell,” Jimmy offered. “You do have to maintain it, though, it's not a one shot. Like our food, when we go into town we always get way more food than we actually need because we can put a spell on it to preserve it, but we have to renew that spell every couple of days or everything will still go bad.”

Supplies hadn't actually occurred to Sam as an issue until he heard that—he usually thought of “supplies” as enough weapons and salt. “Do you have enough? I mean, with four of us and no way out of the forest...”

Jimmy waved a dismissive hand. “No worries, we're covered. When this started happening we stocked up, we've got enough food to last for at least six months, even with the four of us. Longer, if we stretch it out. And there's a washer and dryer in the bathroom back there, so you guys can clean your clothes when you need to. Oh, and our hot water never runs out, so don't worry about long showers!”

“Unless I haven't been in the bathroom first,” Castiel added quickly.

“Right, let him in first,” Jimmy agreed, nodding frantically when Castiel shoved off the couch to reach for his tarot deck. “Definitely, always, let him in first. You don't want to face those consequences.”

“ I'm not  _ that  _ bad,” Castiel muttered.

He sounded genuinely put out, until he turned and Sam saw the little smile quirked into the right corner of his mouth. He took the tarot cards over to the fireplace, sitting cross-legged in front of the hearth and spreading them out in front of himself. Sam watched curiously until Jimmy tapped both him and Dean on the arm and gestured at them to follow him to the kitchen.

“Better to leave him alone if he's doing a reading,” Jimmy said quietly. “So! We're not used to guests, in case that wasn't painfully obvious.” Jimmy chuckled, his eyes crinkling deeply at the corners, and Sam found himself grinning easily back. He glanced at Dean and saw he seemed to be relaxing—his hand had moved from his back pocket to the front. “Anything you guys want to know about us? Since you'll be staying for a bit.”

“ Yeah,” Dean said immediately. “One thing. Castiel and  _ Jimmy? _ ”

Jimmy blinked, and let out a bark of laughter that he quickly swallowed down.

“Okay, I like you!” Jimmy chuckled, offering Dean a grin. “Technically, it's Castiel and Jeremiah. Sounds a little less ridiculous, I guess, but I don't really like my full name. Jimmy's better, less... I don't know, formal? And you can call him Cas, most people in town do.”

There was a sudden grunt from the direction of the fireplace. Sam turned his head in time to see Castiel sitting back with a sigh, poking irritably at a card in front of him.

“Whatcha got?” Jimmy asked.

“Death,” Castiel said with a sigh. “Again. It means change,” he said in Dean's direction—Sam glanced over to see Dean's eyes had widened slightly. “It rarely means literal death. I've drawn this card every time I've done a reading this week.”

“ Did you, ah.” Jimmy glanced at the brothers, then shook his head and continued, “Did you put  _ that  _ card back in before you did the reading?”

Castiel nodded. “Didn't make a difference. Same three cards. I suspect if I'd done a fuller reading, it would still be the same one that indicated they would arrive.” He waved one hand at Sam and Dean without looking at them, too busy glaring at the cards on the floor.

“So.” Jimmy sighed. “Basically, that means whatever is going on right now? It's become as close to inevitable as the future gets.”

~

The rest of the day passed quickly. Dean grew restless after only an hour, but Jimmy distracted him by dragging him over to pick a movie. Jimmy's section contained a large variety of action movies, and pretty soon the little cabin was full of the sounds of guns and explosions and Dean whooping at the TV.

Sam, for his part, was fascinated by the cabin. Apart from the bathroom, which was attached at the back and surprisingly large (he was pretty sure he could actually fit in the bathtub), the entire place was just the one room. Everywhere he looked he found something odd—herbs in little plastic bags piled in corners, two more tarot decks on a single shelf by the bed that, judging by the layer of dust, hadn't been touched in a while. Most of the herbs he could name, but a few were new to him, and more than a few of the stones he found were unfamiliar material. Castiel wound up following him around, smiling, readily naming things and pulling examples out of his bottomless pockets, though Sam found out quickly that he didn't want those to be touched.

The more he saw of Castiel's behavior, the more Sam's suspicions grew. He acted carefully as if it was perfectly normal, put his hands behind his back to curb his curiosity (he'd always been tactile with anything he wanted to learn about). Castiel's eyes widened and his smile deepened.

When night fell, a chill crept into the cabin. Sam built a fire without being asked, and no one seemed to want to stop him. Castiel, who had at some point retreated to the bathroom to change into sleep pants, sat on the edge of the bed, watching him. Jimmy was setting up two cots, end to end, a few feet away from the bed. Dean was in the bathroom brushing his teeth. It felt almost like squatting in an abandoned house—it wouldn't have been the first time they'd needed to build a fire in one to stay warm.

The company, however, was definitely new.

Sam watched the twins once the fire was built. Castiel stayed where he was, alternating between watching Jimmy with the oddest little quirk of a smile, and watching Sam with wide-eyed curiosity. Nothing shy about that gaze, Sam thought with a chuckle, though he noticed that Castiel still never met his eyes. Not quite. There was something just a bit glazed about it, like he was looking at Sam's nose or maybe his cheek. Close enough to fake, if Sam were less observant.

Jimmy seemed almost oblivious to the fact that there were two strangers in his home. He whistled as he set up the cots, something Sam thought might be AC/DC. He ruffled Castiel's hair as he passed, laughing when Castiel scowled and swiped at him half-heartedly. While he was in the kitchen, pulling a couple of water bottles from the fridge (and then, after a pause, two more), he started a strange, jerky bopping that Sam realized after a second was some bizarre attempt at dancing to the rhythm he was whistling. The fact that he was also in just his sleep pants made it even funnier.

Trusting, Sam decided. Jimmy was trusting, or maybe he just knew somehow that they were safe. Castiel was curious but guarded. Almost like a child peering around a corner, desperate to know what was happening in the next room, but unsure how to proceed.

He'd known them less than twenty-four hours, and Sam already liked them.

Dean wandered out of the bathroom, down to boxers and a t-shirt, the rest of his clothes folded sloppily over his arm. He tossed them under the cot closest to the door along with his boots. Dean was less sure. Still watching, still waiting to see if anyone was a threat. He kept glancing at them both while he shuffled around, messing with his pillow and smoothing out his blanket. Not actively threatened, but wary. He relaxed a bit when he saw how easy Sam looked, and they shared a smile as Sam passed him to brush his own teeth.

Both Jimmy and Castiel were in bed—just the one, interesting but could still technically be platonic—when Sam came back out. Dean was on his back, blanket pulled up nearly to his chin, one arm stretched up and under his head.

“I think they're good,” Sam murmured quietly as he slid into his cot. It wasn't quite long enough, and he had to curl his knees in to keep from shoving his feet into Dean's head.

One of Dean's shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Not getting anything bad off them,” he agreed. “Got your gun?”

“Under the pillow,” Sam said with a smile.

“Good,” Dean grunted, and flipped over onto his side.

The fire crackled, spitting out a rain of sparks that landed harmlessly on the stone hearth. Sam closed his eyes against the bright warmth, back to the twins and comfortable with it, and slipped into sleep.

He woke sharply some time later. He held very still, holding in a breath as he listened for whatever had woken him. It came again, the soft rustle of fabric shifting, then a faint gasp followed quickly by a too-sharp, "Sh!"

Slowly, as naturally as possible, Sam let out his breath and cracked open one eye.

The fire had dwindled to embers, leaving just enough light for Sam to see the bed against the far wall and the two shapes rocking together beneath the covers. Another gasp was swallowed down as one twin kissed the other; movements became more frantic. Sam shuddered when the two let out broken, soft moans at the same time and went still.

So. Definitely those kinds of brothers.

He shifted, just enough to glance down to where Dean's cot was shoved up against the end of his own. Natural breathing, no sign of movement aside from the steady rise and fall of his chest, but then again Dean was just as good at faking as Sam. Had he watched, too? Had he wondered, witnessed the proof, and come to the conclusion that it didn't matter?

Why didn't it matter?

Sam frowned. He'd already decided why. But it tugged at him again now, as he stared at the top of Dean's head and thought that if he shifted a little, he could shove his toes up against Dean's shoulder.

Which didn't make any sense, but it nagged at him until he did it. Dean grunted in his sleep and pressed back into Sam's feet. The fact that the contact didn't rouse him at all made Sam smile, more than a little thrilled at the show of trust.

He risked another glance at the twins. They seemed to have drifted off, one draped over the other's chest, blankets halfway off their bodies.

Sam burrowed into his pillow. His eyes were adjusting to the low light, and he could see them better now, see the way one had his arm wrapped tight around the other's waist and where his face was buried in his twin's throat. They were breathing in sync, and they were definitely shirtless, if not completely naked.

Sam bit his lip. His eyes trailed over the edge of the blanket, only just snugged up over their hips. Make that definitely naked. That seemed risky. Too risky, to not only indulge in each other with two strangers a handful of feet away, but to go so far as to actually strip, and not even bother to pull the blanket up to hide it.

"You wanted us to see," Sam breathed.

Dean's muscles rippled against his toes. When Sam glanced down, he found his brother's head tipped back and eyes open, staring straight up at him. Sam raised one eyebrow, and Dean nodded.

Without a word, they settled back down and closed their eyes. Dean made no move to roll away from Sam, and Sam didn't pull his feet back.

He fell asleep with an idea tickling at the edges of his mind, but he never quite dared to reach out and touch it.

~

Castiel woke with his nose buried in Jimmy's armpit. He chuckled at himself but didn't bother moving—his twin almost always smelled fantastic first thing in the morning, sort of spicy and, if the fire went too hot, of clean sweat. He could feel Jimmy's arm draped over his back, fingers dancing idly along his spine. He drew in a deep breath, blew it out playfully just to watch Jimmy squirm, before he lifted his head and set his chin against Jimmy's chest.

"Good morning."

Jimmy's eyes were closed, but he smiled and his fingers danced a little higher, sliding up over Castiel's neck until they were buried firmly in his hair ."Mornin'. They didn't run."

Castiel glanced to the left. Sure enough, Dean and Sam were still there, passed out cold. Sam's feet were tucked against Dean's back and they were both smiling in their sleep, tiny, soft smiles that made Castiel want to smile, too.

"They might not have seen," Castiel murmured.

Jimmy shook his head. "They saw. Now what?"

Castiel considered the tarot card he kept in his coat pocket, one associated with the reading that had told him they might come. He looked over Jimmy's chest and gazed first at Dean, at his long lashes and his freckles and his beautiful mouth. Then Sam, his long hair and firmer, harder face that somehow held the most gentle eyes.

He thought of what he'd seen when he first saw them. In Sam, there was a darkness that seemed to stretch its tendrils into every part of him, yet it never quite reached his soft gaze. There was anger, yet Castiel knew he could tell Sam anything and trust him to keep the secret. There was curiosity, and a hope so strong that it kept the worst of the darkness at bay.

In Dean, he saw a nurturer. Under a hardened layer forced there by hunting and protecting his little brother, Dean was so gentle that it made Castiel's heart ache. If he hadn't been learning how to kill, Castiel suspected he would have been the child that brought home injured animals and saved other kids from bullies. He was passionate and loyal to a fault, and painfully insecure.

Jimmy could see none of this, as he'd never had the gift of seeing souls, so Castiel tangled their fingers together and poured it all into him.

"I think," Castiel murmured as Jimmy gasped, fingers tightening. "We should continue to be ourselves. We won't hide anything from them."

Jimmy's eyes finally snapped open. "Not even...?"

Castiel sighed. He burrowed into Jimmy's throat, relaxing in the comfort of warmth and darkness and familiarity. "Not even that," he agreed. Though he wondered what it said about them that the idea of revealing the different ways in which Castiel thought seemed like a bigger issue than revealing that he and Jimmy were incestuous.

They were still connected, so Jimmy caught some of his thoughts and chuckled. "Well we don't exactly get out much," he muttered. "Our priorities are never going to match up to the rest of the world."

"True."

Castiel pressed a kiss to Jimmy's throat. He retrieved his sleep pants from where he'd stuffed them under the covers and wriggled into them before heaving himself over his twin, landing just a little harder than necessary on the floor. Sam and Dean flinched and stumbled into awareness, both blinking too much and grumbling as they rubbed at their eyes.

"Good morning," Castiel greeted, offering a small smile. A flush of pleasure warmed his cheeks when Sam immediately smiled back, and Dean grumbled something about coffee and stared up at Castiel with half-closed eyes.

"Time izzit?" Dean mumbled.

Sam groped at his pillow until he succeeded in retrieving his phone. "Just after seven," he told Dean. He tossed the phone down and stretched, which shoved his feet even further into Dean's space, but Dean didn't seem to mind. "There wouldn't happen to be coffee, would there?"

"There is no way I could live with him if there wasn't," Jimmy said, thrusting a thumb in Castiel's direction. He had rolled half way out of bed, his own sleep pants back on, but the blanket had tangled around his leg and he didn't seem all that invested in removing it. "It's in the cabinet right above the coffee machine, if you want to make some."

"Great!" Sam rolled easily out of bed, stretched again, and padded barefoot into the kitchen. Castiel watched him flex his toes against the hardwood floor, watched some of his energy sink into the wood and resisted the urge to run over there and collect it. "How strong do you guys usually make it?"

"One scoop," Castiel said. "Slightly mounded."

Sam paused. "Exactly like that?" He asked without turning.

"Yes," Castiel confirmed, and waited.

He'd interacted with enough people in town to know his precise instructions were often met with confusion. Sam, however, messed with the coffee tin for a moment before turning with the scoop and holding it out at eye level. "Like that?"

"I... yes, that's perfect," Castiel said, surprised.

Dean was sitting up now, watching the exchange with a small, confused frown. That frown deepened just a little when Jimmy finally stood up and pressed a kiss to the back of Castiel's neck, but Dean didn't say a word. He watched Jimmy walk to the kitchen and start pulling mugs from the cabinet over the counter before his eyes tracked slowly back to Castiel, trying to meet his gaze.

Since Castiel wasn't that comfortable yet, he gave Dean what he could... which was his eyes fixed on the bridge of Dean's nose.

"Hello," he said after a moment.

Dean frowned just a little bit harder... and then he chuckled and shook his head. "Hi," he answered. "You're a bit weird."

He didn't say it like a bad thing. His tone was warm and almost fond, enough so to make it sound more like a compliment. So Castiel smiled and said, "Thank you," and went to make sure Sam didn't take his mug. His had a bee on it, and only Jimmy was allowed to touch it.

Jimmy began pulling out the ingredients for pancakes. Sam poured out coffee when it was ready, except for Castiel's—he didn't even touch Castiel's cup. He was so used to Jimmy being the only one who understood that Sam's gesture pleased Castiel greatly. He made sure to smile at Sam as he filled his mug and added a spoonful of sugar.

"You've known someone like me," Castiel said.

Sam nodded. "I didn't know her very well, but yeah, I had a few classes with her in college. I wasn't really sure about you until Jimmy said not to touch the mug with the bee on it."

"I'm not that comfortable with you yet," Castiel confirmed. "But I think I could be."

Sam beamed, and the fact that he took that as a compliment and not an inconvenience made Castiel trust him just a little more.

"So, any ideas for today?" Sam asked.

"Maybe," Castiel replied. "There is a place we could go that is within our protections. We can summon a fae there. We've been trying for a few weeks now, but there's still a chance one of them might know something."

"Great." Sam took a sip of coffee. "And if that doesn't work?"

Castiel shrugged. "Right now we don't have a better plan. The computer is technically Jimmy's, so you can use it if you think you might be able to find something."

Sam made the strangest face, something like an amused frown, which made no sense. He glanced at Jimmy, who was whistling as he beat the mixture for the pancakes.

"He's right," Jimmy said lightly. "I don't care if you touch my stuff. At all, really, you both have fantastic energy. Touch every damn thing in this house if you want. Cas already stole the energy you left in the floor."

Castiel frowned and looked down, only just realizing his toes were curled into the floor where Sam's energy had left him and he had, indeed, absorbed it all.

"What?" Sam laughed, a confused little thing but still distinctly amused. "Is this like when I touched your wand? Because Cas didn't seem to like that."

"That's different," Castiel said adamantly. "A wand is extremely personal, even I don't touch Jimmy's wand unless it's necessary. Except when he just hands it to me without a care in the world."

He glared at the end of that sentence, but Jimmy just made a "pfft" sound and waved the sticky spatula at him. "Your energy is fine, stop fussing."

Dean still hadn't joined them. He was standing now, leaning on the wall beside the dead fire, head tipped to one side to watch everyone. Castiel stared at the freckles beneath his right eye and wished emotions were as easy for him to read as the soul. Was Dean nervous? Overwhelmed, maybe? The kitchen was rather small, Castiel wouldn't blame him for wanting some space. Or was he just watching?

Curious, Castiel strode over to fill his mug. Dean's eyes stayed on him, skipping once to Sam before settling on Castiel again. When Castiel glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, it was to find a small, thoughtful frown furrowed into Dean's brow.

Smiling to himself, Castiel turned to lean his back against the fridge, gripping his mug in both hands to let the heat seep into his palms.

“Sam?” Castiel said quietly.

Sam looked up from his own coffee. He was leaning on the counter, watching Jimmy flip pancakes, but at the sound of his name he tilted his body towards Castiel instead. There was cream in his coffee—Castiel made a note of it. “Yeah?”

“I think your brother is trying to figure me out,” Castiel said, voice pitched low with amusement. Dean had no subtlety at all... something Castiel could absolutely relate to.

Sam glanced over at Dean, then rolled his eyes hard. It made Castiel think of Jimmy when he was at once exasperated and amused by something Castiel had just done. “Do you want me to tell him to knock it off?” Sam asked.

Castiel shook his head. “No, it's fine if you tell him. Just tell him not to be offended if I don't meet his eyes, and touching is fine so long as it's firm. I can't stand light touches.”

“Okay.” Sam set his coffee down on the counter with a nod.

Castiel watched as Sam went to his brother and ducked his head, speaking lowly enough that Castiel couldn't hear them. He shouldn't... Castiel sighed, shook his head, and murmured the low words that would enhance his hearing for a few minutes.

They were talking about him, after all.

“— _ s is autistic.” _

Another smile quirked Castiel's lips. Too many people in town said, “He has autism,” and it always drove Castiel a little crazy. It sounded like he had some sort of disease when they said it that way, something that owned him, rather than something that was simply a part of him.

Dean's response was,  _ "What? I thought autism was completely, you know, debilitating?" _

Castiel snorted and rolled his eyes. Jimmy stopped whistling  _ Smoke On The Water  _ long enough to murmur, “You know eavesdropping is kinda rude, right?”

“They're talking about me,” Castiel said simply.

 Jimmy chuckled fondly, shaking his head. “Okay, yes, that makes it all better. You want blueberries or bananas in your pancakes?”

 “Blueberries,” Castiel replied absently. He was busy watching Sam roll his eyes again.

_ "Oh my god, Dean, someday I will teach you how to be sensitive. Somehow. It's a spectrum, okay. He's a perfectly functional person, he just functions differently. Eye contact makes him uncomfortable. Also, try not to brush against him. He says he's fine with being touched as long as it's firm, nothing light." _

There was a moment of quiet. Castiel watched Dean shuffle his feet and reach up to rub the back of his neck, his thoughtful frown back in full force. He finally blurted, _"How was that insensitive?"_

 For a moment, Sam just stared at him. Then he laughed and shook his head. _"I guess for you it really wasn't. Just, you're lacking some knowledge, that's all. Oh, and don't make fun of his coat, okay? I'll bet my laptop you think it's creepy, but I'm pretty sure it's a safety thing for him. It's kind of big and heavy and probably makes him feel more secure."_

The observation surprised Castiel. It was absolutely true, but yet another detail that most people either didn't see, or refused to see.

His spell wore off at that point, but that was okay. He'd heard more than enough.

By the time the brothers joined them, Castiel had his own plate of pancakes and was pouring syrup into a separate bowl.

“Bananas or blueberries?” Jimmy asked cheerfully.

He was flipping his own plain pancakes onto a plate, chuckling when he caught Castiel scowling at them. Castiel just didn't understand the point of a pancake if it didn't have anything in it. Some spices, at least, even just some cinnamon.

 “Bananas,” the brothers answered as one. They didn't even glance at each other, suggesting this was something they did often. Castiel smiled to himself yet again as he rolled up one of his pancakes and dunked it in the syrup.

 “Hey, look!” Dean flapped a hand in Castiel's direction. “He made pancakes finger food!”

 There was the strangest, childlike delight in Dean's eyes as he said it, and as soon as Jimmy slid two pancakes onto a plate and handed them over, Dean started to roll his up as well. Laughing quietly, Castiel reached into the overhead cabinets and pulled out another bowl for him.

 “Oh my god, really, Dean?” Sam groaned, but he was laughing too as Dean enthusiastically poured syrup into the bowl and dunked his pancake in. It dripped down his fingers, a single, sticky line of it easing its way down to his wrist, but he didn't even seem to notice as he shoved half the drenched pancake into his mouth.

“Wha'?” Dean mumbled thickly. “He's doing it.”

“He's doing it more neatly than you, though,” Jimmy pointed out. He handed Sam a plate. “You've got syrup all the way down to your wrist!”

Dean twisted his arm around to look. Then he shrugged and licked it off.

Castiel froze, pancake hovering just above his syrup. He watched Jimmy freeze as well, fork stuck through a piece of his own pancake. They exchanged a glance and, as one, drew in a breath and forced themselves to look away.

Not yet. Too early.

“So, we heading out after breakfast?” Dean asked. There was more syrup running down his fingers already.

“Yes.” Castiel finished and placed his plate and bowl in the sink. “Assuming we have... did we make more?”

This last was directed at Jimmy. His brother paused, half a pancake sticking out of his mouth. He put his plate hastily down and leaped across the kitchen in two steps to throw open a breadbox beside the fridge. A muffled triumphant noise was released, and Jimmy held up a round, plastic-wrapped loaf.

“How old?” Castiel asked.

Jimmy chewed quickly. “Little more than a day, should be fine. Do you remember where I put my bag?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I have no idea. Last time it was hanging off the lamp.”

The bread was tossed down onto the counter, breadbox left open as Jimmy scrambled out of the kitchen. With a sigh, Castiel closed the box and slid the bread over so that it was half way between the counter's edge and the box.

“What's that for?” Dean asked.

“An offering,” Castiel replied. “When you summon a fae, it's always a good idea to bring homemade bread and some cream along. Never store bought bread, they can't stand the preservatives. You never know which kind of fae you're going to get, but you're almost guaranteed an answer even from a darker fae if you've brought bread and cream.”

“Huh.” Castiel could see him filing that information away, probably in case it ever became useful in a hunt.

“Found it!” Jimmy announced suddenly.

All three turned to find Jimmy with his head under the bed and his ass in the air, one hand thrust up to reveal a brightly colored, patchwork shoulder bag he'd made himself. Castiel didn't miss the way both Winchester's eyes roved almost guiltily over Jimmy's ass—not that he blamed them. Jimmy had a spectacular ass, and Castiel was indulging in the view himself.

Interesting, though, that he didn't feel a shred of anything resembling jealously. The card and its reading was looking more and more accurate.

“Here!” Jimmy scrambled upright and hurled the bag at Castiel. It was empty, but the material heavy enough to travel the distance to Castiel's waiting hand. “I'll get dressed, you throw the bread and cream in there. And maybe a snack!”

He dropped his sleep pants right there. Sam's eyes widened and he immediately turned his back, cheeks flushing an adorable red, while Dean let out a tiny squeak and took just a few seconds longer to turn around. He looked incredibly confused, Castiel noticed. Or at least, he was pretty sure that was confusion.

Hmm. Maybe his sexuality was being called into question? Sam certainly didn't seem to be having the same issue.

Curious, Castiel said, “Don't worry, he won't mind if you look,” as he set the bread in the bag and pulled a canning jar full of cream from the fridge. “He's an exhibitionist.”

Sam bit his lip. He turned his head partially and called, “That true?”

“Yup!” Jimmy called back cheerfully.

“Sam!” Dean hissed, but Sam was grinning and twisting his head over his shoulder. “Since when... wait...”

Sam chuckled. “Yes, I'm... let's just say flexible.” His amusement died as suddenly as it had begun and he turned to Dean, a worried little frown on his face. “Is that okay?”

“Of course it's okay!” Dean sputtered. His cheeks were red and his eyes were wide, but he punched Sam in the arm in a way that Castiel was fairly certain was familiar for them. “I just. Wasn't expecting it.”

Sam's grin was so bright Castiel found himself blinking as though he'd truly been blinded. Then he turned his head again and said, “Hey, Jimmy? Great ass.”

Dean groaned and buried his face in his hands. Jimmy wriggled his hips as he pulled his boxers on and tossed Sam an impish smile.

Castiel seriously considered joining Dean in hiding his face.

 


	3. Chapter 3

It took another thirty minutes for everyone to finally leave the cabin. It should have taken five—Dean and Sam were ready to go, dressed and guns (along with iron and salt) tucked into jeans or coat pockets. Castiel took a little longer, but was also fairly efficient.

It was Jimmy who held them up, insisting on continuing some kind of reverse strip tease. Dean had kept his back turned, head ducked and cheeks flaming, but Sam had watched with the kind of open interest that Castiel himself usually displayed, and he knew for a fact that Jimmy couldn't resist that kind of look.

A root looped over Castiel's shoe, jerking him to a halt and nearly toppling him headfirst into dirt and leaves. He caught himself against the trunk of a tree and blinked, surprised—he hadn't realized they were on the trail already.

It wasn't what would generally be considered a hiking trail. More a deer trail, really, but Castiel had wandered along this path a thousand times, knew exactly where to step and when to ease through sideways in order to keep from getting caught in brambles... unless his mind was wandering, as it had just now. Ahead of him, Jimmy had his arms partially raised as he eased through a particularly narrow spot. A glance back told Castiel that Dean and Sam were paying attention, mimicking the witches' footsteps as closely as possible.

Sam in particular was cautious about where he stepped. Castiel observed a deep respect for nature in him, ingrained enough for Sam's actions to be almost subconscious. He watched everything around him with wide, curious eyes but made no move to touch or interact. The reverence was endearing, a little too much, maybe, but Castiel could teach him how to interact with the trees, how to step with the least amount of damage and when it was okay to approach an animal, and how to interpret the signs that meant he was welcome. Castiel  _ wanted _ to teach him.

Dean was different. He was just as cautious, and maybe just as curious in his own way, but he was also wary. His eyes darted everywhere, like every low-hanging branch and every grasping bramble was a threat. Not a threat to him, a threat to Sam. The fierce protectiveness Dean felt towards his brother reminded Castiel of the way he always felt towards Jimmy. Yet beyond that, beyond all the parts of Dean that belonged to Sam, there was a spark that made him pause and run his fingers carefully over the open petals of a wild geranium, or suddenly duck down to scoop up a rock smoothed by the stream that ran through here in the spring. Unlike Sam, Dean didn't hesitate to touch, to interact, and yet twice Castiel watched him reach for the moss on a tree only to withdraw his hand at the last second.

He did understand. He read the signs of nature—of whether or not he was welcome—purely on instinct, and he didn't even know he was doing it.

Castiel slipped one hand into his pocket, fingertips brushing the card that told him the hunters might come. He made himself turn away, sought and found Jimmy's gaze, and widened his eyes in a silent question.  _ Do you want them as much as I do? _

Jimmy smiled, wide and easy, nothing tight around the lips or eyes to suggest discomfort.  _ Yes _ .

Castiel relaxed, and let the card slip from his fingers. The Lovers, or at least his deck's equivalent. Most tarot decks he'd tried before settling on one specifically designed by the fae showed a man and a woman; his card showed a swirl of bright light, shades of red running together in a beautiful tangle. Just Love, he supposed, was more accurate. Love that wasn't tied to gender or sex or limitations of any kind. It just  _ was _ .

The path ended in the long, yellow grass of a familiar field. Castiel ran his fingers through the stalks in greeting. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam watching him, frowning thoughtfully, and after a moment he copied the motion with so much care that Castiel had to smile at him. Sam beamed in response.

"Okay, so." Dean's voice was louder than necessary, not so much breaking the quiet as shattering it. Castiel barely kept himself from wincing, but he expected nothing less from a man who loved loud rock music and the roar of an engine. "What's out here?"

"This!" Jimmy called, just as loudly—Castiel considered that they were well matched there, and Jimmy would be more than happy to let Dean subject him to classic rock.

Dean and Sam approached Jimmy, twin frowns of confusion on their faces as they looked down into the grass, though Sam's expression quickly melted into wide-eyed excitement. He pointed with one long finger and asked, “Is that a faery circle?” with such exuberance that Castiel couldn't help a smile.

“It's just a bunch of mushrooms,” Dean muttered.

“Toadstools,” Jimmy corrected. “Not quite the same thing. Close, but these have magical properties. Circles are the easiest, and safest, places to summon a fae. Unless you specifically know the name of a fae, you never know who's going to show up, and you really don't want to be dealing with a dark fae outside of a circle.”

Castiel knelt, smiling down at the familiar toadstools and running a fingertip over one in greeting. The circle was quite large, easily able to contain at least thirty people (or other creatures), though the few times he'd seen dances held here there was rarely more than ten. He eased just inside and sat, legs tucked under him, while he watched Dean's shadow creep closer.

"This doesn't... um... summon some asshole called Oberon, does it?" Dean asked.

Jimmy, who had been pulling the bread and the jar of cream from his bag, laughed so hard and sudden that his knees gave out. The bread tumbled into the circle, and Castiel just managed to catch the jar as it fell from Jimmy's hand. He chuckled, shaking his head fondly as he set the jar upright beside the bread.

"You've been talking to Harriet," Castiel said. "She's... not all there."

"Batshit crazy is what he's trying to say," Jimmy gasped. "Oh Gaia, I wish I'd seen your face. Sam, tell me about his face."

Sam grinned. "He was horrified. She kept saying he was so pretty and made more than one comment about his 'perky' ass and his glare just kept getting deeper and deeper..."

Dean heaved a heavy sigh, which only made Sam dissolve into laughter alongside Jimmy.

"At least it was a compliment," Castiel offered.

Dean grumbled something unintelligible, but he also shuffled closer to Castiel as he glared at the other two.

After a moment, Jimmy righted himself and crawled into the circle, reaching out to unwrap the bread. Sam sat beside him and watched for maybe five seconds before he asked, "So, I thought these rings were responsible for people disappearing."

Jimmy shook his head. "Common misconception. Faery circles are neutral ground. They're actually the safest places for humans to be if the fae are out in force. Anyone can wander in and party in one of these without worrying about waking up to find twenty years have passed. Even the darker fae obey the laws here."

Once the plastic wrap and lid had been tossed aside, Jimmy reached out a hand. Castiel took it, threading their fingers together and keeping a curious eye on the Winchesters. Sam watched them with an odd smile on his face, while Dean looked uncomfortable. But not, Castiel noticed, uncomfortable with them. More uncomfortable with himself.

“How does this work?” Dean asked. Distracting himself as much as genuinely curious? Castiel scowled, wishing yet again that he was better at reading facial expressions.

“We just share power and request a visit,” Jimmy said. “But when we first started doing this sort of thing, we had to use rituals. We weren't strong enough then. Just give us a second, we need to focus.”

Dean nodded, and that was the last Castiel saw as his eyes slid closed.

There were fae they didn't have to summon—sprites and a handful of harmless imps, a faun, and more than a few faeries that they'd befriended over the years. But they'd spoken to all of them, and all they could say was  _ the forest is sick. _

The chances of whoever they summoned having any more knowledge was slim at best, but slim was better than nothing.

So Castiel fed his energy to his twin, took what Jimmy offered, and focused.

~

It took only a handful of minutes for Jimmy to feel the sharp tug of magic within the circle. He heard Sam and Dean's sudden, sharp intakes of breath and opened his eyes, curious about what he'd find.

Oh.

That was unexpected.

“The hell is  _ that? _ ” Dean yelped, stumbling back a step, already reaching for his gun.

“Dean!” Sam hissed. He drew a hand sharply along his throat and glared.

“She,” Castiel said, stressing the word. “Is a gremlin.”

Which was highly unusual, a thought shared as the twins glanced at each other. Gremlins rarely allowed themselves to be seen by humans, even within the safety of a faery circle. Jimmy took advantage to get a good look—this one was short, maybe two feet tall. She had a bony little body covered with wrinkled, pine-green skin, and large, flappy ears high on her skull. They kept drooping down over her eyes, which she didn't even seem to notice until it got in the way of her tearing into the loaf of bread.

“Those are real?” Dean muttered. He took a step forward, squinting down at the fae. “She's kinda...”

“You're not so pretty yourself, asshole,” the gremlin said sharply, and hurled a piece of crust in Dean's face. “Quit starin'. Who made this bread?”

A little meekly, Jimmy said, “I did? Um. Why?”

“It's fantastic,” she said, in the same way someone might say, 'This is disgusting.' She paused suddenly and stared directly up at Dean, who was still watching her with something akin to horror. “Yo. Unless you're the one who summoned me, turn your ugly mug around. Seriously, you have no wrinkles at all, that's just wrong.”

A few feet away, Sam let out a horrific hacking noise that Jimmy suspected meant he was choking on his own laughter. Castiel chuckled and ducked his head, hiding a smile of his own.

“Just... turn around, Dean,” Jimmy said tightly, desperate to hold back his own amusement. It wasn't exactly going to help the outrage in Dean's wide eyes. “Just for a minute, I promise.”

The hunter let out an indignant huff, but he turned around anyway, muttering about wrinkles and something to do with skin.

Whatever it was, Jimmy was sure it wasn't flattering.

“We're the ones that summoned you,” Jimmy said, gesturing between himself and Cas. “We're trying to figure out what's wrong with the forest.”

The gremlin tore off another chunk of bread. She stuffed it in her mouth before looking up at them, squinting as both their faces before swallowing down her mouthful and offering a grin full of sharp, pointed teeth. “Okay. You both have nice wrinkles around your eyes, you're not so bad.”

Sam let out another choked off sound—the gremlin whipped her head around to look at him. He offered a smile, huge enough that it etched the smile lines around his mouth and eyes deep into the skin.

“Huh. Never mind. I'll talk to him.” The gremlin pointed at Sam with another chunk of bread. “Get over here, big guy. Right here.” She pointed at the ground beside her with the same chunk.

Sam looked frantically at Castiel and Jimmy. Jimmy shrugged almost at the same time as his brother, and waved a hand towards the ground.

Slowly, Sam stepped closer and sank down into a cross-legged position beside her. She was busy stuffing more bread in her mouth, but when she looked up she barked out a laugh that sent half of it spewing back out into the grass.

“Jeez, I'm not gonna eat ya,” the gremlin cackled. “Calm down. So, you guys wanna know about the weird shit going on with the trees? And all the cracked-out fae running around?”

“Um... yeah.” Sam nodded a little too fast, bangs flopping—it made Jimmy think of a puppy. “Do you know anything?”

The gremlin shrugged. “Not much. Know that the cracked-out fae are actually shooting up with somethin'. Some kind of energy, and not even that much of it, but it's still makin' 'em go batshit insane. Don't have a clue what's up with the trees except that most of them aren't happy about it. Whatever's got a leash around their trunks, it's somethin' powerful. 's gotta be related, too, pretty sure it's the trees that are giving the fae their orders, when they're not losing their minds and attacking anything that moves at random. There's this kelpie, I found 'im beating the shit outta a bush because the wind moved the leaves too fast.” The gremlin pursed her lips in something very close to a pout. “I liked that bush. Some damn good berries on that bush.”

The last of the bread was shoved into the gremlin's mouth, distending one cheek, before she snatched up the jar and took an enthusiastic gulp of cream. It streamed out either side of her mouth and down her chin, but she didn't even seem to notice. Jimmy wondered rather whimsically if this was common gremlin behavior, of if it was just her in particular.

“Anyway, don't know much more'n that,” she said, almost regretfully. “Not sure it's an even trade.” She toasted them with the still half full jar. “Oh! I can tell you that it gets worse the further into the forest y'go. So whatever it is, 's in there pretty deep. If you're feelin' reckless, I'd just start walkin'.”

The rest of the cream was guzzled down. She tossed the jar over one shoulder, offered Sam a crooked grin, and disappeared.

“So...” Sam ventured after a moment. “I vote we make 'feeling reckless' plan B?”

“Seconded,” Jimmy said with a nod. He bent to pick up the discarded jar and lid. “Cas?”

“Yes,” he agreed. “Dean?”

Dean, who still had his back sullenly to the group, muttered, “Yeah, fine, plan B. But if we don't find anything else, I'm going whether the rest of you do or not.”

The look Sam gave Jimmy—one part exasperation, one part fondness—assured him that Dean wouldn't, in fact, leave without them.

~

What followed was two weeks of frustration, on more than one level.

For one thing, the twins discovered just two days after the gremlin that their protections were fading. The kelpie returned once, barging through the initial barrier without so much as a pause and nearly making off with Dean. Just two hours later, a swarm of pixies made it nearly a mile further than they should have while Castiel and Jimmy were out checking with the trees for any new information (there was none). Normally, pixies were harmless. They liked small mischiefs—tying electrical cords in knots, hiding tools, changing the color of a favorite shirt. These, however, sliced open Castiel's cheek and damn near took out Jimmy's left eye before they managed to stumble onto safe enough ground, leaving the pixies screeching on the other side.

“The ring won't be safe anymore,” Castiel said, and Jimmy nodded. There went one avenue of communication.

The lack of information didn't improve over those two weeks. Even the few trees within the twin's protections, the few not affected, couldn't tell them anything more than the gremlin.

And then there was the Winchesters.

Jimmy was not at all used to sexual frustration. He and Castiel had been together as long as he could remember. As children they were inseparable. They had their sexual awakenings at the same time, and it never occurred to them not to explore each other. They rarely went into town, never really saw another human being. They fumbled their way through likes and dislikes in the meadow where the faery ring grew and, later in life, fumbled through a few more with some unlikely fae partners—but never apart, always together, and those were never anything more than flings.

So Jimmy was used to waking up horny and pressing into his twin, kneading at his shoulders and kissing his neck until Castiel would roll over, still half asleep, and give him what he wanted. He was used to walking up behind him and wrapping his arms around his waist, slipping his fingers below the waistline of jeans or boxers. To catching him sunbathing naked outside the door and just pouncing on him, hearing Castiel's laugh as they wrestled playfully for the top. Except for the rare occasions Castiel was in the wrong mood for it, Jimmy was generally more than satisfied.

Which made this an incredibly new experience. He'd felt guilty the first few times he let his eyes rake over Dean's ass or bow legs, or his gorgeous eyes and mouth, or when he'd stare at Sam's chest when he took it off to sleep at night, trailing down over muscles hardened by a tough life and to legs that seemed to go on forever. But then he'd catch Castiel doing the same thing and remember, together. They were in this together, and it was okay.

Worse was that it wasn't just sexual. Jimmy liked them both, was starting to tip to that soft, terrifying place that meant he might be developing deep feelings for someone outside his twin for the first time in his life. Castiel's ability to soul-read, and to share his findings with his twin, made it far too easy to become attached. It gave them glimpses of not just the brother's physical forms, but of who they really were deep down in their core, and it made it almost impossible not to love them.

Sam, it seemed, had accepted that the twins were together, and even dropped subtle hints about it. He'd share a smile with them when he saw Jimmy kiss Castiel's neck, or when Castiel would slide his fingers into the waistline around Jimmy's hip. Dean... it was harder to pin down what Dean was thinking. He watched, his eyes always hooded, and then he'd watch his brother. Several times, Jimmy was close enough to see his pupils dilate, to watch him stretch out an arm over his lap and flex his wrist like an afterthought. But he'd look away after a bit, pick at non-existent dirt on his jeans or start cleaning his gun.

“Do you think he's questioning his sexuality?” Jimmy had asked Castiel on the sixth day. It turned out, Castiel had already had the same thought.

Dean grew quieter as the days wore on and no new information came up. Restless, Jimmy thought, but he was also focusing on them more. His attention swung from Sam to the twins constantly, and his gaze grew more bold as they approached the second week.

On the fifteenth day, Castiel and Jimmy were attacked within a quarter mile of their cabin by a dryad separated from her tree. Her bark-like skin was already softening with rot, yet she fought as though their deaths could somehow return her to her rightful place. She died feet away from them, unable to breach the last few layers of protection and gone too long from her tree.

Jimmy ached, and hated the thing that killed her. Castiel tucked himself into his coat and ran back to the cabin before Jimmy could stop him.

When he arrived home, he found Sam and Dean standing by the sofa with wide eyes, staring into the corner between the entertainment center and the wall. Castiel had gone down there, knees pulled up to his chest, coat wrapped as thoroughly around himself as he could manage, and he was rocking. Softly, no humming which was a good sign, but his eyes were distant and the ache in Jimmy's chest burrowed a little deeper.

“Just leave him,” Jimmy said tightly. “He'll come find us when he's ready.”

Dean gave a curt nod and turned away. Sam was slower to move, lifting one hand like he could touch Castiel from that distance and casting Jimmy pleading looks, but he let himself be led away by firm hands on his shoulders, let Jimmy press him down onto his cot. Even let Jimmy sit beside him and wrap an arm over his shoulders.

“Castiel is very sensitive towards... well, most things, really,” Jimmy said quietly. “But he has a particular affinity for dryads, probably because he loves the trees so much. He's always been able to speak to them better than I can. I mean, I can hear them fine, but Castiel... I don't know,  _ feels  _ them, maybe.” He paused, saw the confusion on their faces and remembered they weren't actually there. “We were attacked by a dryad outside. She died, she'd been away from her tree too long.”

“It got to him,” Sam said.

Jimmy nodded. “Sometimes... well, he has a hard time processing. It doesn't help to try and snap him out of it, we just have to let it run its course.”

Dean frowned hard, his eyes snapping in the direction of the corner. It took Jimmy a moment to realize this was because the humming had started.

“It may be a while,” Jimmy murmured.

~

A while was most of the day. Eventually the three started to move around. Dean cleaned his gun, Jimmy began the dough for some more fresh bread. Sam made sandwiches as quietly as he could, wincing when he set dishes into the sink just a little too quickly, or when he dropped the mayo jar.

Darkness crept in through the window, bringing the chill of the autumn nights with it. Jimmy started a fire, and let himself glance into the corner. Castiel was still humming, eyes distant.

It was only after Jimmy sat on the floor to listen to the fire crackle and snap that the humming finally stopped. There was a moment of stillness that made Jimmy ache to check the corner again, but he held still, made himself stare into the flames until he felt arms go around his shoulders. He sighed and leaned back into Castiel, twisting an arm around to grasp firmly at the back of his twin's head.

“Okay?” He asked.

Castiel hummed an affirmative into Jimmy's skin. “How long?”

“Most of the day.”

Castiel sighed.

He didn't apologize. He never did, and Jimmy was glad of that, because it was in no way his fault.

~

The cabin was dark but for the glow of the fire, burnt down to embers. For hours Dean had laid there on his back, one arm tucked under his head, staring at the ceiling. He hadn't managed to shake the image of Castiel's distress from his mind, and sleep refused to come. He felt wired, a current running just under his skin making him restless, making it difficult to even hold still.

A storm was coming in. Rain pounded against the roof, getting louder and louder but still unable to cover the rumble of thunder. Still a good ways off, judging by the length of time between it and the first flash of lightning that flashed day-bright through the single window.

Seeing Castiel like that, huddled in on himself and locked in his own mind... Dean knew it would have bothered him seeing anyone that way, but watching Castiel had  _ hurt.  _ Like watching Sammy have nightmares as a kid, but as least then he'd been able to hold him, to tuck him in against his chest and whisper that he was alright, Dean wouldn't let the monsters get him.

It hurt to watch Jimmy handle it, too, though it had also kicked up Dean's respect for him a few notches, and it hadn't exactly been low to begin with.

God, he didn't know what to do with this. Probably unhealthy feelings for his own brother aside, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this way towards another person, much less two people at once. Especially not in such a short time. Only two weeks, and he...

Dean huffed out a sharp breath and ran a hand over his face. He'd known for a while now that his tastes went beyond women, but women had always been safer. His teenage self had been certain John wouldn't react well, and the fear had just nestled there in the back of his mind, whispering to him any time a cute guy walked by, any time Dean  _ considered _ . But John was gone now, and Dean was older, and now that he knew Sam wasn't exactly straight himself, well. There wasn't any need to be scared of it, was there?

Except for all the incest. Yeah. That was a thing.

Dean sighed. Sam's toes were tucked against his shoulder, just like they had been every night since they saw the twins going at it just a few feet from their cots. He kept telling himself that Cas and Jimmy's relationship should bother him, but it just didn't. Not when they lived like this, almost entirely cut off from the rest of the world. When they'd grown up in each other's pockets and it had probably never occurred to them that there might be someone else out there for them.

Just like Sam and Dean.

“Fuck,” Dean hissed.

He swung his legs out of bed, brushing a hand over Sam's ankle to keep him from waking. Jimmy was awake and sitting up, staring out towards the window even though it was too dark to see the rain... or maybe he was looking at the door being eased open by Castiel before he darted out into the storm.

Dean blinked. No. No way. He had to be dreaming.

Stumbling to his feet, Dean threw on his coat and shoved his gun into his jeans, patting down a pocket to make sure the iron chain was there. Jimmy was standing as well, moving towards the door with a grin on his face. A clap of thunder roared right overhead—lightning immediately followed. Dean glanced at Sam, but he was still fast asleep.

The two stopped in the doorway, each with a hand on the opposite side of the wood. Castiel was already gone, no trace of him in the rain-streaked dark.

Dean considered. He bit his lip, let a shiver of fear roll down his spine, and thought  _ fuck it. _

“So, if you're the creative one,” Dean murmured. “What's Cas?”

Rain lashed against the doorway. The wind groaned as it battered the walls, slipping inside to whip the fire into a bright, curling fury. Sam snuffled into his pillow, hands groping for the blanket and pulling it over his head. He should close the door, Sammy was cold... but Dean's hands only twitched at his sides, eyes wandering out into the dark.

He glanced to his left. Jimmy was staring out into the rain, lips parted and eyes wide.

“He's the wild one,” Jimmy whispered.

Dean thought of Cas, of reserved, quiet, fierce Cas, and plunged into the storm without a second thought.

The wind and the rain and the  _ cold  _ stung Dean's eyes, bit into his skin, but he kept going blindly, one hand held out in front of his face like that could somehow stop nature in all her glory. He stumbled over uneven ground and felt a hand clutch his bicep, steadying him. Sudden light made him wince, and when he turned he found Jimmy standing beside him, grinning, a ball of white light cupped in his free hand.

“Come on!” Jimmy yelled. Dean could only just make out his voice over the howl of the wind. “This way!”

His hand slipped down, down, until his fingers tangled with Dean's. Even in the cold, Dean felt a flush flood his cheeks.

“I...” he started, but then he shook his head, and tightened his grip.

Jimmy pulled him further into the rain.

They ran through the trees and into a small clearing, one Dean could only hope was within the protections, where the rain became that much stronger and Dean had to squint to make out anything. Jimmy's light intensified until it wasn't so much a ball as a wave, washing over a dark figure a few feet away. Dean saw Jimmy bite his lip, eyes falling half shut, and he turned to look at Cas.

“Holy shit,” Dean murmured, words he could feel in his throat but never quite heard over the storm.

Dark hair was plastered to Castiel's head, hanging down into closed eyes. Rain streamed down his cheeks to slip over parted lips. He was shirtless, jeans soaked and hanging low on his hips, and in Jimmy's light Dean could just see the sharp shadows of his hipbones. As they watched, Castiel spread his arms out to either side, palms upturned into the rain.

Then he started to dance.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean wasn't sure he'd ever seen anyone dance quite like this before. Not that he'd been exposed to a lot of dancing—he'd done his share of wriggling along to his music, and he'd been in clubs for cases and seen some people who clearly knew what they were doing—but this wasn't anything like that. It was almost as if Castiel was attempting to mimic the storm. His feet crashed into the earth in eerie time to the thunder, his upper body snapping and contorting to flashes of lightning. It might have been silly, if he hadn't been so perfectly in sync with nature.

The storm was right overhead now. Dean glanced warily upwards as rapid flashes of lightning cracked open the sky. The rain lashed at his eyes and he threw up a hand to shield them. Castiel was still dancing, and Jimmy wasn't making any moves to leave...

Dean stepped closer, fingers shifting in Jimmy's—he'd almost forgotten they were holding hands. He squeezed to get the witch's attention and nodded to the sky when he had it.

“Don't worry!” Jimmy shouted. “It's not a violent storm!”

Yeah. Because  _ that  _ made perfect sense.

What made even less sense was how Dean just relaxed, eyes wandering back to Castiel. Like he trusted them.

Shit. He trusted them.

The realization was somehow more shocking than accepting he was attracted to them. He couldn't remember trusting anyone outside of Sam and John... well, ever.

Dean started when Castiel abruptly crumpled down into the grass, but relaxed again when he saw the witch was laughing. Eyes closed, head tipped back, laughing so hard his body convulsed and Dean imagined he could hear it over the crack of thunder. He looked so damn alive that Dean found himself laughing, too, and when Jimmy tugged him forward he didn't resist.

The rain was cold with the first hints of winter. Dean's clothes were saturated, became even more so when Jimmy collapsed into the grass beside his brother and yanked Dean down with him. Dean should have been freezing, should have wanted nothing more than to get inside by the fire and burrow down under his blankets.

Instead, his laughter somehow seemed to warm him from the inside. He let Jimmy tug him forward so he was sprawled halfway over the witch's side, and they both reached out for Castiel, just laying their hands against his chest to feel him laugh. The rain was  _ fun— _ it was a friend. It was feeding everything around him, giving it life, and teasing the humans it found in its midst at the same time. Suddenly every drop of water rolling down his neck or dripping into his eyes was mischievous, every clap of thunder was a joyous shout, each flash of lightning its own strange kind of laughter. The earth crushed under Dean's body was taking huge gulps of the rain, and was quite happy to cushion him, using the rain to soften itself and god, what the hell was this?

It took Dean a moment to realize the twins were staring at him with wide eyes and even wider smiles.

“What!” he yelled, but they were both laughing again, and the next thing Dean knew they had him pinned down under their combined weight, which was just about the weirdest wrestling match Dean had never been involved in. He was laughing again by the end of it, barely even struggling, and when they finally staggered to their feet the rain had stopped and the storm had moved on.

“What was that?” Dean asked as they slogged their way back to the cabin. “I swear everything was... I dunno, alive?”

Castiel snorted. “Everything is alive, Dean. You just felt it for the first time.”

“Okay. How?”

“You have a natural talent for it,” Jimmy said. “We noticed it when we went to the faery circle. If you'd been raised the way we were, you would probably be even more powerful than the two of us combined by now. Actually, we could teach you, if you want. If you... stay.”

Jimmy stumbled over the last word, and his eyes flicked to Castiel's. The other witch glanced at Dean, something hopeful in his wide eyes, and Dean... didn't know the answer to that.

“Sam and I are hunters,” Dean said as they approached the cabin. “But... it would be kinda nice to have somewhere to come back to.”

If Sam wanted to, he thought firmly, not that he doubted that he would. Sam had always wanted a home, and knowing that after weeks or more on the road there was somewhere they could go, somewhere that wasn't a dingy motel room? There wasn't much chance Sam was going to pass on that.

Assuming that this... whatever it was between the four of them actually worked itself out.

Castiel put his hand in the small of Dean's back as they walked through the door, and Jimmy's hand slipped back into Dean's without resistance.

Yeah. It was pretty much all down to Sam.

~

Sam woke when the door opened, but he didn't think much of it. Dean never could sleep through a storm. When they were kids he'd always snap awake and run to the windows to watch the lightening. The only window in the cabin was pretty small, so when Sam heard the roll of thunder he wasn't surprised that the door was opened. But he was cold, so he pulled the blanket over his head in a shuffling manner that would convince Dean he was still asleep.

What did surprise him was the quiet exchange between Jimmy and Dean, and the sudden rush of the two as they ran outside. He sat up then, frowning at the now closed door, and realized Castiel was gone, too. Huh. He was almost curious enough to go after them... almost.

He really hated getting wet, though.

So instead, Sam slid out of the cot and went to build up the fire. They'd definitely need the warmth when they came back.

The new logs Sam tossed into the embers snapped and caught. Sam sank down cross-legged on the floor to watch, a soft smile on his face. He liked it here. He liked the quiet, the tiny cabin and the natural heating and the fact that he could still get online. The lack of privacy didn't bother him, never had, not with the way he'd grown up, so he really liked stumbling out of his cot every morning with the three of them, making coffee and whatever Jimmy decided to whip up for breakfast. They'd worked out a schedule when it came to showers and dishes and other chores, but no one wanted to argue with Jimmy insisting he was the only one that cooked. Not when he was so damn good at it. Sam was still practically swooning over the omelets he'd made that morning.

Sam's smile grew. That morning had been good in more ways than one. While Jimmy was cooking, Castiel had stumbled in, bleary-eyed and grumbling, and grabbed his mug off the counter. Which he'd then shoved into Sam's chest with a sleepy demand that Sam get him coffee, since he was standing in front of the coffee machine anyway.

It could have been annoying, but really Sam just found the grouchy morning routine endearing. So much so that it had taken him a second to realize that Castiel had just  _ handed Sam his mug.  _ The one only Jimmy was allowed to touch. He'd almost dropped the damn thing in shock, barely catching it in time. He'd filled it and handed it back to Castiel before he could finally stammer out a thank you, which earned him a sleepy, squinting little frown until Sam explained that he was glad Castiel trusted him.

The frown had stayed fixed on Castiel's face until he'd added sugar and drank half the coffee. Only then had he offered Sam a bright smile and a, “You're welcome,” before shuffling out towards the fire, where Dean had been poking at the embers and debating on whether or not to wait until that night to build a new one. Sam had watched Castiel seemingly-absently hand Dean his mug while he grabbed his coat off its hook and realized then that he'd done it on purpose, just to let them both know it was okay now. Sam had been pleased to see a stunned expression on Dean's face, glad his brother wasn't brushing off a gesture that meant so much.

“Thanks,” Jimmy had said suddenly, quietly, and when Sam asked for what, Jimmy said, “For not wanting him to function like most people.”

“He wouldn't be  _ him  _ if he functioned like most people,” Sam had protested.

The fire gave a loud crack, snapping Sam back to the present. He glanced towards the window, listened to the rain drum its steady beat into the roof, and wondered what they were doing out there. Wondered if whatever it was, it was bringing them closer.

He hoped so. Because even if he didn't get to be a part of it, Sam wanted Dean to have that.

The thought made Sam frown, though, because something in him was convinced it was all of them. There was  _ something  _ tying all four of them together, it just... well. It was maybe bothering him a bit how much the incest didn't bother him.

“It's not like any of us are normal,” Sam murmured to himself. He leaned forward to grab the poker and shift a piece of wood, just for something to do.

The rain had finally stopped and the storm moved on by the time the door opened. Sam looked up in time to see Castiel with an arm around Dean's back and Jimmy with his hand in Dean's, and Sam couldn't stop his smile. All three of them were soaked, but Jimmy was already wriggling his wand out of his sleeve, and with a few words and a quick flick, they were all dry again.

“Okay, that's awesome,” Dean said with a grin, lifting his free hand just to see his dry coat.

His gaze snapped to Sam after a moment. He glanced down at his and Jimmy's hands, at how close Castiel was standing, and then back to Sam with something hard and challenging.

So Sam smiled, a very specific smile that meant  _ I'm happy for you  _ and watched the hardness melt into soft surprise, and something that looked a lot like hope.

~

There was a quiet sort of tension in the cabin that morning.

None of them had gone back to bed, instead shuffling slowly through showers and getting dressed. Jimmy was already making breakfast—egg and bacon sandwiches—by 5:30a.m. Dean cleaned his gun for the thousandth time while Castiel showed Sam his tarot cards, now that he was comfortable doing so.

They were all behaving as if everything was normal—or what had become normal for them over the last couple weeks—but Sam felt that cliche of  _ any second now _ growing stronger the longer they stretched out the charade.

“These are really interesting,” Sam murmured, partly to distract himself, but partly because the cards spread out on the floor were genuinely fascinating. Every card was a swirl of color on a black background, with no recognizable shapes or titles. “How do you tell which is which?”

Castiel smiled. “By feeling. This is a deck designed by the faeries, so it's not limiting like most decks created by humans. This one.” He tapped his index to a spiral of deep red and gold. “Is courage. Just a simple emotion card. But this one.” Now he tapped a set of what looked vaguely like starbursts, both a deep blue that gradually lightened into a brilliant white at their centers. “This one depends on the other cards around it. It always signals an equal pair, but that could be friends, siblings, lovers... occasionally all three. This is one of the cards that appeared in the reading that told me you might be coming.”

Sam stilled, barely dared to breathe for a moment.  _ Occasionally all three. _

“What other cards were in that reading?” Sam asked softly.

The witch paused. His eyes flicked up and held Sam's gaze for a handful of heartbeats before wandering back to his cards. He returned all but the equal pair card back into his deck and began to shuffle through them, gradually removing four more cards; one gray and spiked in a way that unsettled Sam, one a sickly yellow, one a mess of soft reds that immediately made Sam smile, and finally the courage card. He arranged them in a specific order—gray and yellow, then the red and gold card, and finally the blue and soft red.

“This,” Castiel pointed to the gray card. “Is the event that would have to happen for you to arrive, or at least the most likely event to cause your arrival. This represents negative energy, which I know now is whatever is wrong with the forest. This.” His finger tapped the yellow card. “Is a mistake, basically. It indicates the event will be caused by a specific mistake. The courage card simply means that's what will be required to overcome it. The pair card in this case I felt meant hunters, though nothing in the reading indicated what type of pair that would make you. But this...” Castiel trailed off. He trailed his finger softly over the red card's surface, swallowing hard.

“This is...”

Castiel's eyes suddenly flew wide. He slapped his hand down over the yellow card, letting out a breath so harsh it made Sam's eyes widen. “Oh gods,” Castiel choked out. “Jimmy.  _ Jimmy!” _

There was a crash as a pan flew off the stove. Jimmy came scrambling around the counter and knelt down on the floor beside his brother, Dean hurrying after him with a concerned frown. He glanced at Sam but Sam only shook his head,  _ I have no idea. _

“It was us,” Castiel gasped.

“What?” Jimmy curled a hand tight around the back of Castiel's neck. “Hey, breathe, it's okay, what are you—”

“It was us.” The witch practically spat the words. He was breathing so fast now he was in danger of hyperventilating. “What's happening now, all of it... Jimmy,  _ we did this! _ ”

“How could we have possibly...” Jimmy's eyes fell to the card, partially obscured under Castiel's hand. He sank all the way to the floor with a thump, staring with eyes now as wide as his twin's.

“An' it harm none,” Castiel murmured, fingers pressing hard into the card's surface.

“Do what ye will,” Jimmy finished in a whisper. “Oh gods. The gremlin, she said it was deeper into the forest... how did we not see this?”

Castiel closed his eyes. His hands were starting to shake. “Because we didn't want to.”

“Care to share with the class?” Dean asked loudly.

The twins jumped, almost at the same time. They exchanged a look and nodded as one.

“We know what it is,” Castiel said, not meeting either of their eyes. He took a deep breath, but his breathing slowed only a little. “But will you let us tell you the story after we've taken care of it?”

Dean opened his mouth—probably to object—so Sam quickly spoke first. “Yes, if you give us enough information to help,” he said. He sent Dean a sharp glare, relieved when Dean took the hint with a tight nod.

Castiel nodded. “It's a tree. A very, very old oak. It... it was our friend, when we were kids. Our mother used to take us there to collect herbs, and leave us to play under it. An... event occurred which left the tree, we thought, essentially dead. We haven't been back since.”

“And this event... is the mistake,” Sam said slowly, nodding toward the card. “Okay. What do we need to do?”

“We need to...” Castiel hissed and closed his eyes tight, leaning hard into Jimmy's side.

“We need to burn it,” Jimmy said quietly. He shuddered, and wrapped his arm all the way around his twin's shoulders. “Cas, I think you should stay here for this.”

“ _ No,”  _ Castiel snarled. “We did this. I will not leave you alone to fix it. I won't leave our friend alone.”

Jimmy closed his eyes, but not in time to prevent a tear from escaping. He kissed Castiel's forehead. “I don't think it's our friend anymore, Cas. And watching this will... remember the dryad?”

“I'm going,” Castiel growled.

The witch lunged to his feet, leaving the cards spread out over the floor. The slam of the door made the remaining three flinch in unison. Sam glanced over in time to see Jimmy sliding shaking hands over his face, hissing out sharp breaths against his palms for a handful of seconds before he reached for the abandoned deck.

“You'll want to bring your iron chain,” Jimmy said, voice tight as he shuffled and neatened the cards. “And your guns, won't do a lot of good but might... might stall some of them.” A stuttered flick of his wrists scattered the cards, just so he could go about neatening them all over again—though the effect was ruined when he stood and set the cards down on the counter, shaking hands knocking them all loose. “Cas and I can do a spell for the fire, it'll b—  _ fuck,  _ it'll burn faster.”

Sam frowned. He was pretty sure that counted as “harm,” but he was still too unfamiliar with the rules of white magic to know for certain. Maybe the law could be bent when necessary.

Glancing to his left, Sam found Dean watching Jimmy with narrow, questioning eyes. He had a hand slipped inside his jacket, patting an inner pocket, and Sam realized with a start that was were Dean kept his emergency flask of lighter fluid. It wasn't very large, but it was enough to at least catch in a root or a branch and spread from there... especially if...

Sam stepped up beside Dean and slid his hand over the flask. Dean started, eyes widening in a way that might have been comical if the air hadn't been so dense.

“What're you doing?” Dean whispered.

Sam murmured the words Jimmy had taught him, let the energy he'd come to associate with magic build in his chest, warm and tight, and spill out through his fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Dean relax in comprehension.

“Should be as much as you need, now,” Sam said, tapping the flask before taking a step back. “Assuming I did it right, anyway.”

Dean gave a tight nod and an even tighter smile.

They gathered the rest of their weapons while Jimmy slipped his wand into his sleeve and took Castiel's from the desk. Once outside, they found Castiel with his hands deep in his coat pockets, glazed eyes staring behind the house, northward.

“Do you have—” Jimmy started.

With a quick, sharp jerk, Castiel removed a fist from his right coat pocket and opened it before his brother could finish. There was a roughly round chunk of amber in his palm, so pure that Sam found himself frowning as he leaned in closer, looking for anything trapped inside.

“This one didn't capture an insect or a leaf, or even dust.” Castiel closed his hand. “It captured sunlight.”

“Cas...” Jimmy slid a hand over Castiel's shoulder. “Please stay.”

Shoving the amber back in his pocket, Castiel shrugged off Jimmy's hold and began to walk.

~

For nearly an hour, absolutely nothing happened.

They'd left the twins' weakening protections a good forty-five minutes ago, but nothing around them had so much as stirred. Even the trees seemed unnaturally still, and what little rustling Sam could hear felt too much like speech. Dean scoffed when Sam mentioned it, but that was a dead giveaway—Dean always scoffed when he was uncomfortable.

Castiel stayed a good four or five steps ahead the entire time, hands still jammed deep into his pockets, back stiff. He walked like a soldier headed to a certain death, determined to face it but terrified all the same.

There was, Sam supposed, a certain death ahead—but hopefully it wouldn't be any of them.

The thought made his guts knot and his jaw clench, and he shoved it vehemently into the back of his mind.

Five minutes past the hour mark, the kelpie attacked them.

It was the same kelpie—at least, Sam thought it was. They heard it coming, impossible not to when every hoof striking the earth rumbled like a rock slide. Sam flung the chain around them, calling out to Castiel to fall back into the protection... but he only continued forward, didn't even turn his head to acknowledge Sam's cries.

“CASTIEL!” Jimmy shrieked. He lunged towards the edge of the circle, stopped only by Dean's hand hand fisting into the back of his coat. “Let go!”

In one motion, Dean jerked Jimmy back and pulled his gun free. The kelpie reared, screaming—Dean fired. The bullet struck right between the eyes. The kelpie slammed back into the ground, one hoof pawing and tearing at the dirt as it shook its head hard, like it was trying to shake the bullet free.

While it was distracted, Castiel calmly tugged his right hand from his pocket. There was a blade in his grasp, long and thin, curved in a way that reminded Sam of a snake.

“NO!” Jimmy thrashed, jerking his arms to free them from his coat but ending up tangled instead when Dean wrapped his other arm around him. “Cas, no, you can't... let me do it, let Dean do it, just don't—!”

The kelpie lunged. Castiel screamed, and the plunged the blade into the creature's heart.

It didn't make a sound. It just crumpled, iron twisting life into death with jarring speed. Sam shuddered as he watched its eyes dull and go out, hadn't even realized there was a pale kind of light in them until it was gone.

Slowly, Dean uncurled his fingers from Jimmy's coat and loosened his arm. He leaned his shoulder against Sam's as they watched Jimmy rush to his brother, cupping his face and speaking, low and rapid, staring straight into eyes Sam was willing to bet money weren't staring back.

Sam put his arm around Dean's waist. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, just. I know what that's gonna do to him, later.”

Sam nodded his agreement. “Why didn't you let Jimmy go?”

“He was too focused on Cas. Would have gotten them both killed. Figured Cas knew what he was doing, he just needed the distraction.” Dean hefted the gun, frowning down at it for a moment before tucking it back into his jeans.

They moved on, once Jimmy was able to haul Castiel back into some semblance of awareness. He stayed right beside his twin as they walked, one hand shoved into a pocket alongside Castiel's, murmuring a constant stream of words that Castiel didn't seem to hear.

The next attack came ten minutes later. The roots of a tree exploded right out of the ground and grabbed Sam's ankle, yanking him to the ground. His head glanced off a rock, stunning him and leaving him blinking in the aftermath, asking blearily what happened to the root shriveled on the ground beside him.

“Apparently certain trees react to iron like the fae do,” Dean explained with a shrug as they hurried away before the tree could recuperate.

“Only when using faery magic,” Jimmy said. “Or being used by it. It... hopefully it will recover after we've stopped the source.”

The shift from forest to field was abrupt—one moment they were hurrying through the frantic rustle of trees speaking faster and faster, eyes on the ground in preparation for another attack, and the next the full force of the cool autumn sun was stinging Sam's eyes. He threw a hand up to shield himself. The field wasn't anything special—it looked much like the meadow that held the faery ring, though this one was larger, the trees forming a denser circle around it. The yellow grass was long enough to tease at Sam's knees. He had a flash of the first time the twins had taken them to the circle, of reaching down to greet the grass and feeling the strange shiver under his skin when nature greeted him in return.

He reached down without thinking and froze.

"That..." Sam breathed, eyes huge as he stared at the tree dominating the center of the field.

Before he could even finish his sentence, or properly process what he was seeing, two things happened in rapid succession:

Dean grabbed the back of his neck, yanked him down, and hissed in his ear, "Don't let them use the spell!"

And then he  _ ran. _

Seconds later, Sam understood why.

~

Dean hated himself a little (okay fine, a lot) as he bolted across the field, spelled flask already in his hand.

There were too many fae swarming towards them to count. Dean spied a kelpie, some imps, and a whole fucking  _ cloud  _ of pixies before he made himself turn back towards his target. They could take care of themselves, they had the chain and magic and... and Dean had to fight not to run back and defend them.

Sam could defend Cas and Jimmy, and they would defend Sam. They would be fine, so long as he made it to the damn tree in time.

There was just one problem. The faster Dean tried to run, the thicker the air seemed to grow. It felt as though he were attempting to run through rapids, fighting the current threatening to hurl him under the water. His steps slowed and finally stopped. The heaviness in his limbs threatened to send him crashing to the ground. His eyelids drooped, pried back open by sheer force of will. It was kind of nice, actually, like he'd been wrapped up in warm, weighted blankets.

There was a whispering in his ears, something soft, like leaves brushing against each other. Slowly, Dean tipped his head, trying to better take in the sound. It was nice, too, quiet and peaceful, lulling him towards sleep…

A shriek ripped Dean from his trance. He jerked against the heaviness in his limbs, twisted around, saw the mass of fae shrouding Sam and the twins completely.

He heard the rustle in his ears, the whispering--it was speaking to the fae, coaxing, ordering, demanding they attack. Pouring something black and thick into them, making them rage... what had Cas said? Weeks ago now...  _ something thick and dark, like sap _ .

Black magic?

The rustling grew louder. When Dean tried to take a step forward, it invaded his mind like white noise, briefly overwhelming before it took on a form similar to words.

**Leave.**

Dean faltered. His fingers, wrapped tightly around the flask, twitched as they tried to open.

**They did this to me. Turn back.**

Dean's index finger slowly uncurled. He grit his teeth and told his hand to tighten, but nothing happened. The blackness was wrapped around him, sinking into his skin, heavy and warm and god, he was so fucking tired…

**If you turn back, you can take your witches. I don't want to hurt them if I don't have to.**

"Yeah, sure." Dean shoved the words out through his teeth. He was losing the battle with his own grip, watching, helpless, as his fingers loosened one by one. "Lemme guess, you didn't want to hurt all the others, either?"

**They're fine. They are in me, all their souls inside. They are not unhappy. We'll all be one when I manifest. Does this appease you?**

It was the "manifest" that let Dean lock the last two fingers around the flask.  _ Manifest.  _ The fucking tree was trying to make a  _ body. _

The tree must have sensed it was losing its grip because the flood of whispers and thick-dark intensified. Dean shuddered, forced himself to keep his eyes open, tried to ignore the command to just let go.

There was something more, under the dark. Something just as thick but purer, like the amber Castiel had brought. Dean reached out to it, touched it with some part of himself, and felt love. It loved Cas and Jimmy, under all that magic, and that was making it hesitate.

Dean let his eyes slip closed. He focused on what he'd been taught over the last two weeks, the little magics Castiel and Jimmy gave him. He found that spark of white, and he pushed it down into his arm, into his grip, until his fingers closed and his feet stumbled forward and he nearly tripped over the roots of the tree.

The presence in his mind let out a sound so shattering it couldn't even be described as a shriek. Dean screamed, free hand flying to his ear in a futile attempt to protect himself. He forced it back down, fumbled at the cap with shaking fingers. It wasn't even really a  _ sound-- _ he wasn't hearing it, not really, but it was so intense, so other that his mind had forced it into a more familiar shape. It built on itself until Dean's skull was threatening to crack.

"Come on, come on..." Dean couldn't even hear the words, just felt the vibrations in his throat as he finally tore the cap free and upended the flask.

The shriek cut off abruptly. Dean's knees nearly gave out in relief--he took a quick step forward to stay upright, and continued to pour out the lighter fluid.

Once the roots and base of the trunk were as saturated as Dean could get them, he dropped the flask and reached for his matches. Distantly, he was aware of the whispering starting up again, and of a pounding behind him that sounded somewhat like hoofbeats. He didn't bother turning around to check--he knew without seeing that the trees was summoning the fae to attack him.

Didn't matter, so long as…

The match caught. Dean dropped it on the nearest root.

Immediately, the whispering stopped. The presence withdrew, leaving Dean lightheaded and gasping for clean air. The pounding stopped abruptly and, with the presence gone from his mind, Dean dared to turn.

A creature roughly Dean's height, but with furry legs and cloven hooves and a pair of curling horns, stood just behind him. It blinked and reached up to rub at his eyes with his palms, as though just waking from a strange dream.

"Where am I?" it asked. "What... ohhhh."

It watched, wide-eyed, as the slowly growing flames crept up a root to lick at the base of the trunk.

"So that's what it was," it said, and sighed. "Too bad you had to burn it."

Before Dean could say anything, it turned and hurried across the field.

The mass of fae had dispersed, leaving Sam, Castiel, and Jimmy stepping cautiously towards the edge of the protective ring of iron. The kelpie, now half the size it had been a moment ago, snuffled and slipped into the trees. The pixies were hovering a few yards from the tree, speaking in high, chittering sounds. A few of the imps seemed to have decided that swearing and kicking at the grass was an appropriate reaction, while the rest shuffled steadily back towards the forest.

All of this was briefly noted and set aside in favor of raking his eyes over the three, even at this distance checking for injury, which he continued to do when they joined him. He ignored the thumbs up Sam gave him and stepped up to blatantly run his hands over first his brother, then the twins, so focused that he barely noticed the glaze in Castiel's eyes.

"Cas," Jimmy said softly. Dean glanced up and saw Jimmy holding out his hand. "Cas, you have to help me, we have to keep the rest of the forest from... you have to help me."

"We need to get back," Sam murmured, sliding a hand onto Dean's shoulder.

Dean nodded and let Sam pull him away, tugging him nearly halfway across the field before he was satisfied with the distance. Jimmy pulled Castiel after them, in fits and spurts, stopping frequently to sooth a hand over Castiel's back or to murmur in his ear. They were still holding hands--Dean understood why when he looked back to the tree and saw a shimmer spreading out in a wide circle in the grass.

"To keep the fire contained," Jimmy explained when he saw Dean watching. His voice was hollow, and Dean didn't bother resisting the urge to slide a hand over his shoulder.

The base of the trunk was roaring now, the flames leaping upward. Something flickered in Dean's mind, a quick flash of  _ heat raw painpainpain  _ and then gone.

Usually, this was his favorite part. The bit where he got to light things on fire. Except they'd never been  _ alive  _ before, or if they were then they were evil sons of bitches that needed to be put down. And yeah, okay, the tree needed to be put down, but getting a glimpse of what it used to be made it... not so good.

He took a step back, seeking Sam... and then he heard the scream.

Scream might not have been the right word. It was more a howl, guttural and deep. Dean and Sam whirled to find Castiel on his knees, head tipped back, eyes squeezed tightly shut, hands curled into fists as he howled at the sky.

The brothers looked uncertainly to Jimmy. He was crying, silently, but he made no move to approach Castiel.

“We can hear it,” Jimmy choked out. “The tree. We can hear it dying.”

And that... that just did it. Dean turned his back and refused to look as he stalked towards the trees.

“I'll get Cas,” Sam called after him—nothing accusing in his voice, no disappointment. He understood.

Dean thought he might be grateful for that, somewhere under the illness writhing in his stomach.


	5. Chapter 5

Though Jimmy tried his best, he didn't have the upper body strength to carry his brother. Sam, on the other hand, managed to make it most of the way back to the cabin before his arms gave out, and Dean took over. Jimmy hovered, and twisted his hand into Castiel's hair, probably gripping tightly enough to hurt, but Castiel was without a doubt too far gone to feel it.

Dean laid Castiel in the bed when they got home. Jimmy drew his wand over his twin's prone form, murmuring soft words under his breath. A ripple shuddered over the air and settled by Castiel's feet.

“It'll keep him in a kind of stasis until he comes out of it,” Jimmy said when the brothers cast him questioning looks.

Sam had sank down on the floor by the fire. He reached out blindly, and Dean, after a second's hesitation, took his brother's hand. Jimmy watched them, watched Dean sink to the floor and lean his shoulder against Sam's... and then he ran his hands over his face, pressing his palms into his eyes until he saw spots.

He didn't want to do this. Not when they were both staring up at him, still trusting him. Gods, he didn't want to do anything that would make them stop looking at him like that.

“So,” Dean prompted after a moment. His voice was almost soft—his version of coaxing.

Jimmy nodded around his hands. He dropped to the floor with them, knees cutting out like he'd been tackled. It hurt when he landed, but he didn't make a sound—just adjusted himself, pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them, staring resolutely at his own jeans.

“We've lived here our whole lives,” Jimmy started. “It was just us and our mother. She used to take us out to that field, like Cas told you. There's a lot of faery influence out there, lots of herbs and other things to collect, especially at certain times of the year. That tree is...  _ was...  _ the oldest in the woods. We didn't have friends, really, just kids we occasionally played with in town, but the tree was our friend. It watched over us, told us stories, sheltered us. Even after our mother died, we kept going out there. Especially then. We were only thirteen when she went, and we made sure no one in town found out. We didn't want to be taken away.”

Jimmy paused, swallowing hard around a knot in his throat. The brothers said nothing. They were still holding hands, loosely, like they'd forgotten about it. Just like when Jimmy took Castiel's hand.

“Our mother taught us most of what we knew about magic, but when she died we kept learning. We went through all her books, talked to the fae we befriended. But we... we were still so young, we still didn't understand. Black magic was this monster hiding under the bed, it wasn't real.”

Jimmy dared to glance up. Dean was frowning, a glimmer of knowing in his eyes, but he was... denying it, maybe. Sam knew, though. He knew, and suddenly Jimmy wondered if this was how Castiel felt trying to meet someone's eyes. Like it was impossible, like it might kill him if he managed it.

He did it anyway. Sam was wary, but there was sympathy there, too, and it gave Jimmy the courage to continue.

“It was stupid, really,” Jimmy said, huffing out a pale laugh devoid of humor. “An Imp was damaging the tree. Kept stealing too much, too many leaves or parts of the trunk. There was a lot of power in it. We never found out what the Imp was doing with it. It didn't matter, it was hurting our friend, and we got mad. We were fourteen, on our own, petty. We wanted to hurt it like it hurt our friend. So we found a... we thought it was a hex. Doesn't matter, we intended harm. We trapped the Imp, and we cast the spell together. We thought it was just going to make a few pieces go missing, make it hurt like the tree.”

Jimmy shuddered. He'd never forgotten, he refused to let himself do that, but he often let it be hazy, didn't let himself remember the  _ gore  _ of it.

“It... did what the spell said. It made pieces go missing. Pieces like half the Imp's heart, or parts of its brain. It... it was like someone shot a few perfect holes in its head, and out came...” Jimmy shuddered again, let his eyes close briefly before forcing them open. “It was horrible. We broke the most important law of magic, we could both feel it... I don't know, settling in. This... well, it was almost like sap, like black sap, sticking to every part of our souls.”

Dean's eyes widened. Jimmy noted it, but didn't stop to question.

“We were in the field when it happened. We had this stupid idea in our heads about our friend seeing how we avenged it, or something. I don't know, we were teens. Stupid, stupid teens. Anyway, the tree sucked the black magic out of us, somehow. Absorbed it. Then it didn't speak again. We stayed for almost two days trying to get it to talk to us again, but we were certain it was dead. So, as far as we knew, we'd not only killed a fae, we'd killed our oldest friend.”

Jimmy had looked down again while he spoke. He kept his gaze glued to his knees. “We swore we'd never break the rule again after that. And we never have, though we almost did today. I... thank you for that, Dean.”

He fell silent then. Kept staring at his knees.

“I felt that when I went after the tree,” Dean said after a moment, voice low and gruff. “That black sap feeling. I think it festered in there and made the tree go evil.”

Jimmy nodded. Didn't look up.

A hand wrapped around his shoulder.

“Hey.” Sam's voice. Soft, nearly a whisper.

Slowly, Jimmy lifted his head.

“You were fourteen,” Sam said gently. “You were alone, and you were protecting your friend. Yeah, you majorly fucked it up, but you learned from it. Dean and I, we've done some stupid shit, too. We're the last people to judge.”

Jimmy glanced at Dean and found him nodding. He reached out and put his own hand on Jimmy's opposite shoulder, offering a smile.

“We're okay,” he said, and then he cleared his throat and pulled his hand away. “Thanks, though. For telling us.”

Numbly, Jimmy nodded. “I... I mean, that's it?”

Dean shrugged. “That's it. Is there anything we can do to help Cas?”

Sam squeezed his shoulder and sat back, leaning into Dean again. Jimmy watched them with wide eyes, and then slowly shook his head. “Nothing,” he murmured. “We just, need to wait. And then... talk, I think?”

Like they were only just realizing it, Sam and Dean looked at each other, at their pressed shoulders and joined hands. Their gazes met, and held.

Sam tightened his grip. Dean flushed and ducked his head, but curled his fingers inwards in response.

“Yeah,” Sam said with a small smile. “We'll talk when Cas is better.”

~

It took two days for Castiel to move. The three of them continued on as they had before the fight, though with more quiet than usual. They touched more—chaste touches, but frequent and full of promise, hands grasping and fingers running over backs and necks and, once, Jimmy's fingers raking through Sam's hair. He smiled encouragement when Dean and Sam hesitantly reached for each other, Sam offering shy smiles and Dean huffing out nervous laughter.

A few times, Jimmy sat by Castiel's feet and just stared, wondering how the hell they'd gotten so lucky. Especially after how massively they'd fucked up.

Jimmy was there, one hand wrapped tightly around Castiel's ankle, when he finally woke.

The spell shimmered and died, indicating that Castiel was coming out of his blank state. Jimmy made sure his touch was firm, tight enough to be on the edge of pain. He felt muscle and bone flex beneath his fingers, and then Castiel was slowly sitting up, immediately reaching out for Jimmy's shoulder as an anchor, blinking rapidly as his vision slowly came into focus.

“How long?” He asked, voice hoarse with disuse.

“Two days.”

Castiel nodded. He ran both hands over his face, weary, and slid out of bed straight to the bathroom. He didn't say a word to Sam and Dean, both alert and watching from the kitchen.

“We'll wait another day,” Sam said before Jimmy could even speak.

Jimmy smiled gratefully.

By the next morning, Castiel was... better. Jimmy wrapped his arms tight around him while they slept, kissed his forehead and his temples and the spot at the back of his neck that always made him shiver. He kissed him on the mouth when they woke early that morning, leaned over Castiel and pinned him down, teased his mouth open with the tip of his tongue but never quite dipped inside. The broken moan his twin released woke Sam and Dean, and they watched, quiet and tense, until Jimmy eased away.

“I love you,” Jimmy whispered, lips pressed to Castiel's temple.

Castiel hummed, an affirmative response without the words.

The four shuffled through their morning routine, but no one bothered to make breakfast. They all made their coffee and stood in a loose circle in the kitchen, eyes wandering uncertainly as they talked.

Sam was... already settled in the idea. Nervous only because it was new, but comfortable with what they were doing and what it meant.

Dean was less certain. He wanted, badly, but Jimmy could tell the word  _ incest  _ was rattling around in his mind. Despite living so thoroughly outside of society, he was somehow still concerned with what it might think.

Which, Jimmy supposed, was fair. He knew it wasn't normal, what he and Castiel were, but they had even less exposure to society than the hunters did.

Castiel didn't understand why it was an issue. They were separate, they would never be a part of the normal world, and the likelihood of finding others like them was very low. To pass on the opportunity would be ridiculous.

Jimmy laughed when he said it, blunt and a bit logical and so very, very Castiel.

And Jimmy himself, well. He was just here for it. Hell, his mind was already off into the future, wondering what Sam was hiding under ill-fitting clothes, if Dean's freckles were everywhere, what they'd be like—assertive, submissive, somewhere in between?

Castiel caught his eye and laughed, low and sudden. Jimmy was pretty sure Dean and Sam had been talking, but they stopped, Sam tipping his head curiously in a way that was suspiciously similar to Castiel, Dean raising both eyebrows in question.

“Jimmy is already deep in the gutter,” Castiel offered as an explanation.

Dean laughed. He still sounded nervous, but the amusement seemed to lighten him a bit. “Okay, okay, so... we're doing this?”

“If you want to,” Jimmy said. “We definitely do. And obviously you two.” He waved one hand between Sam and Dean. “Will have to figure out how comfortable you are with each other. Seems like you've been making some progress there, though.”

Castiel frowned. “I missed it?”

Jimmy chuckled. “Just a little. They haven't made out or anything.”

Castiel looked openly relieved, and it made both hunters laugh.

And then Sam turned and asked, just a bit breathless, “Should we?”

“W-what?” Dean stammered. He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders.

“Kiss?” Sam shrugged, mouth twisted up in a not-quite-smile. “Might... we can at least see if it's possible.”

Dean drew in a shaky breath, and then shook his head wildly. For a second, Jimmy thought it was all going to fall apart, but Dean just drew in another breath and said quickly, “Not yet. I mean... I don't know about you, but I'm kinda wound up. Maybe...?”

He glanced over the three of them, pleading.

“I have an idea,” Castiel said, grinning widely.

Which was how they all ended up outside, with the massive quilt from the bed spread out in the grass, none of them quite looking at each other while they stripped off clothes.

Castiel was a beautiful person with beautiful ideas, Jimmy thought with a barely-hidden grin.

“So, we're just...?” Sam sank into a cross-legged position, laughing softly at himself as he tipped his face back into the sun. “Okay, yeah, we can just. Pretend we're sunbathing.”

Flopping down onto his stomach, Jimmy flipped open the Dresden novel he had zero intention of actually reading and tried not to sneak a too obvious a glance at Dean. “Yeah. Sunbathing,” Jimmy agreed absently.

“Why are we avoiding the subject?” Castiel asked with a frown, and all three of them let out abrupt bursts of laughter.

Dean threw his pants at Castiel's head. Sam buried his face in his hands and choked on his own amusement.

Jimmy snickered into his book, and let himself relax.

This was going to work.

~

Dean had never been nude outdoors before. Not when his life had revolved around always being prepared for something of the supernatural variety. Inside, with salt lines laid and his gun within arm's reach, only then was he able to feel secure enough to remove all his clothes, even if it was usually only for showers or sex.

Sam had been naked outside before, he knew that for certain. A couple of times as a kid he'd gone skinny dipping with Dean on guard, and once when he was fifteen and alone with Dean, they'd gone swimming and then Sam had laid himself out on the shore, totally bare, letting the sun dry all the little streams of water from his skin. Dean swam too, but he never took off his boxers. Part of him had wanted to tell Sam to do the same, but an even bigger part of him wanted Sam to feel safe, so he'd always shut his mouth at the last second.

Dean had definitely never been naked outdoors with three other people.

Castiel was lying on his back, hands tucked under his head and eyes closed. Jimmy was sprawled on his front, legs bent at the knee, feet rubbing against each other as he flipped a page of his book. And there was Sam, sitting cross-legged across from Dean, head turned towards Castiel, eyes narrow. The space between Sam's legs was shadowed, but all Dean would have to do was lean forward a bit...

A slow, deep breath, and Dean shifted his gaze to the left, to Castiel and Jimmy.

This was new, too. Not necessarily being attracted to more than one person at once, but actually having them all, right there, within his reach. Knowing that every one of them was free to touch each other, without restraint, that they all wanted each other equally, if not in exactly the same way.

Another deep breath. Dean slid a little closer to Jimmy. The blanket was soft under his bare skin, though he could just feel the prickle and crack of sun-dried grass beneath it. Sam was there, Dean knew it was okay... but he wasn't ready to take that leap yet. And there were two more people here that he could explore, that he  _ wanted  _ to explore just as badly.

One more breath—it was fine. It was perfectly okay to want a guy, to want to run his hand down Jimmy's muscled back or over Castiel's strong thigh. He reached out, just touching his fingertips to Jimmy's bicep. The witch's skin twitched beneath the touch, but otherwise Jimmy didn't move, didn't even look up from his book.

That... actually made it easier. Dean scooted a little bit closer, so his left leg was nearly touching Jimmy's side. His fingers danced up over Jimmy's shoulder and slowly eased down until his palm was flat to sun-warmed skin. Jimmy let out a soft little sigh and leaned into it, but still didn't look up.

A soft, sharp intake of breath made Dean glance to his right. Sam was still in the same position, but his eyes were hooded and locked on Dean. A little thrill raced down Dean's spine at the thought of being watched. He winked at Sam, chuckling softly when his brother flashed him a nervous but bright grin.

Turning his attention back to Jimmy, Dean ran his hand down the witch's back, keeping his hand flat and firm. Jimmy arched up into the attention and he finally dropped his book, a little hum escaping his throat.

"'s nice," Jimmy murmured.

The encouragement pooled warm in Dean's belly, made him bold enough to slide his hand over the curve of Jimmy's ass. He kneaded once, shivering at the give of muscle that filled his palm so nicely... and then let out a sudden laugh so high and quick it was damn near a giggle.

"Fuck," Dean groaned, hiding his face in both hands. "Sorry, I..."

"Shh, you're okay," Jimmy said, soft laughter in his voice. Dean felt the tug of the blanket as Jimmy rolled, and then a hand was in the small of his back, long fingers swirling comforting patterns into his spine. "That was actually adorable. Here." Jimmy took Dean's wrist in a gentle grip, one easily broken, and guided Dean's hand to his thigh. Then he kissed Dean's hip, tongue darting out to trace the bone—Dean gasped, clenching his fingers into muscle and tanned skin.

He glanced at Sam again, who was leaning forward now, both hands wrapped around his ankles. He smiled when Dean looked at him, and nodded towards the twins.  _ I'm fine, Dean. More than fine. _

So Dean turned back to Jimmy, only to find Castiel there as well, one hand on Jimmy's shoulder and the other just settling on Dean's. His hands were a little stronger than Jimmy's, and he met Dean's gaze without flinching—Dean now understood the significance of that, and it made his heart pound and his eyes go wide as Castiel leaned in, holding that contact even as his lips brushed Dean's.

Jimmy mouthed across Dean's thigh; Castiel sucked Dean's bottom lip into his mouth. All his muscles melted at once—Dean waited for his head to strike the ground, but instead a strong arm braced against his shoulders and lowered him carefully onto the blanket. A hand ran firmly up Dean's inner thigh, slowing the higher it got, until Dean was whimpering into Castiel's mouth and spreading his legs wide in invitation. His eyes fluttered closed just as knuckles gently brushed against his balls, so light that it only made his cock twitch and  _ ache _ .

"Please," Dean gasped against Castiel's lips.

"Sh." Castiel kissed both his closed eyes, feather light brushes that made Dean shudder and tip his head up into the attention. "Please what?"

Dean laughed, quiet and helpless—he had no fucking idea.

So he reached out, because he was never a passive lover and he'd been still long enough. He buried a hand in Castiel's longer hair and tugged him back until he could suck a bruise into Castiel's throat. He mouthed his way up behind Castiel's ear, lashed his tongue against the skin just beneath it and grinned when he felt Castiel groan. His other hand reached down blindly, groping until he found Jimmy's head. His hair was shorter, not as easy to grip, so Dean just stroked his fingers through it, heard Jimmy give a quiet, pleased hum and felt lips return to his skin, tongue tracing over his hipbone while fingers danced feather-light over his tight balls, increasing the ache until Dean was bucking his hips in search of more friction.

And then there was another hand, this one huge and calloused, long, long fingers drawing a hesitant circle around his nipple, and Dean damn near exploded when he realized it was Sam. He bit down on the juncture of Castiel's neck and shoulder, registered that it made Castiel cry out and arch into his mouth. God, he needed more hands, needed to touch all of them...

It was too easy to lose track of who was touching where, and Dean let himself. Someone was suckling at the head of his cock; there was a mouth on his throat, exposed when Dean threw his head back into the blanket; a hand was kneading at his thigh, another rolling his nipple, varying pressure and speed with every sound Dean made until it was perfect. And Dean, he touched whatever he could, smoothed his hands over every inch of skin he could find, ran his fingers through hair and eventually found someone's cock, tucked right up against his shoulder and if he just turned his head a bit...

He'd never so much as thought about having a cock in his mouth. Just the head, heavy against his tongue, sharp taste of precome and the slip of foreskin and Dean  _ moaned _ , couldn't believe he'd never let himself do this. He wriggled his tongue against the slit, partly to chase the flavor and partly to see how it made whoever he had react. The resulting shout was rough and low—Cas, he had Cas in his mouth.

The shout was muffled abruptly. Dean sucked softly, listening for the sounds over his head, and realized someone had kissed Castiel. Sam? Jimmy? He wanted to see, but he didn't want to take his mouth away. He groped downwards for whoever was sucking his cock and found short hair... still Jimmy, then.

That meant Sam was kissing Cas. Fuck,  _ fuck _ , he had to see that.

Keeping his hand curled around Castiel's cock, Dean looked up. Sam was on his right, a hand flat to Dean's pectoral, another hand in Castiel's hair. Their kiss was open-mouthed and sloppy. Sam had pulled Castiel's head back and was bearing down on him, right on the edge of dominating him and Cas was just melting into it, letting out broken little moans that Sam greedily swallowed.

They broke apart with sharp gasps. Castiel gulped down air like he'd been drowning and stared at Sam with wide eyes. Sam's chest heaved and he grinned, and Dean couldn't stop staring at how blown their pupils were, wondered if his own looked like that, if Jimmy's did.

Then Sam looked down at him suddenly. His eyes narrowed, and Dean felt fingers thread into his hair, pushing until Dean was turned back towards Castiel's cock.

And fuck if that wasn't so hot Dean's spine damn near melted. He let Sam direct him, push him forward until he was sucking Castiel in again, sinking down further this time. The head hit the back of Dean's throat and he choked, quickly pulled back just enough to let himself breathe—though the strangled cry Castiel released almost made him bear down again, just to hear him make some more of those noises.

Dean lost himself again, too many hands and teeth and tongues. He lost himself in the rhythm of his lips sliding over heat and hard and slick, in the knead of a hand on his balls and the slide of a tongue around and around the head of his dick, in the tight grip in his hair and the feel of warm skin giving beneath his greedy hands. Vaguely, he became aware of someone rocking their cock against his hip, of a body bucking between his legs, of Castiel's cock hardening even more just before he came. His come was hot and bitter and Dean tried to swallow, managed to get some of it down but he wasn't expecting so  _ much _ and the rest leaked out of the corners of his mouth to drip down his chin. Castiel's cock slid from his mouth and he gulped in air, let his head fall back when Sam's hand released it and just stared, dazed, at the blue patches of sky peeking through shifting leaves.

Jimmy let out a strangled cry around Dean's cock. Dean was vaguely aware of Jimmy's hips stilling even as his own bucked into the vibration of Jimmy's voice. His mouth opened but no sound came out as his orgasm punched out of him unexpectedly, or maybe it wasn't so unexpected and he'd just been too distracted by the feel of something hard and warm in his mouth—

Sam shoved two fingers over Dean's tongue. It was just a bit too rough and it made Dean's hips buck and one last, weak spurt of come spurt out into Jimmy's mouth. Dean finally let out a groan, sucking sloppy at Sam's fingers as Jimmy sucked softly, coaxing out every last little bit of pleasure until Dean was whimpering and twitching away.

And then, by some unspoken agreement, they all merged on Sam. Who still, somehow, managed to be in control, guiding Cas and Dean with his hands and owning Jimmy with his mouth. Dean had no idea how Sam had managed to direct both Dean and Castiel onto his cock, but he wasn't complaining. He shoved away the little voice in the back of his head that screamed  _ brother _ and let himself enjoy the slide of Sam over his tongue, the extra slickness of precome (Cas hadn't produced this much until right before he came), and the added sensation of Castiel right there beside him, their cheeks brushing together occasionally, Castiel's lips mouthing at the base of Sam's cock until Jimmy knocked Sam down onto his back and Cas was able to crawl over him, duck down to suck at his balls. Sam shouted into Jimmy's mouth, hands clenching and Dean groaned as the tingling pain shuddered right down his spine.

He hadn't gotten hard again so quickly in years, but he suspected right then that he might be able to today.

Sam shuddered hard when he came, clenching his hands so tight that Dean winced but Castiel let out a bone-deep moan. Dean managed to swallow more this time, but what he didn't get Castiel was there to lick off his chin and lips, lapping away like an eager puppy. It turned into a sticky, lazy kiss, and then to nuzzles that had Dean blushing hard and ducking his head to try and hide it.

"That," Jimmy announced. "Was the best thing ever. And we didn't even actually fuck."

"Next time," Sam mumbled. He had an arm thrown over his eyes and was already half asleep. "Definitely, next time. If everyone's up for it."

Dean felt a weird tingling in the base of his spine when he imagined any one of them inside him. He'd had fingers up there before, even a small dildo once, but the thought of taking an actual cock scared him as much as it aroused him.

"Jimmy is always up for it," Castiel murmured. He pillowed his head on Dean's shoulder and sighed contentedly against his throat. "For me, it depends on my mood."

Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm game," he said before he could chicken out.

"Awesome." Dean was pretty sure Sam had meant to imitate Dean with that word, but he was so sleepy that it just came out a cute little mumble. "Who's on my legs?"

"Me," Dean chuckled.

He shifted so he was sprawled between them and laid his head on Sam's abdomen, taking care not to crush the soft cock nestled against his left thigh. Cas adjusted with him, straddling one of Sam's legs and throwing one of his own over Dean's hips. Behind them, Jimmy settled in so his head was on Sam's pec and his arm over his waist so he could lay a hand on Castiel's shoulder. His leg was smashed up against Dean's back, bony knee just a bit too hard against his spine, but for the moment Dean couldn't care less.

"This is ridiculous," Dean mumbled, and then he laughed. He flung an arm over Cas's shoulders, kissed Sam's skin and then tipped his head up to kiss Jimmy's arm. When Cas gave a faint huff, he stretched forward to plant a kiss on his nose.

"It is," Castiel agreed. "Now go to sleep. We'll untangled ourselves later."

Dean obeyed, and even though he woke with a horrid crick in his neck and a numb leg, he couldn't bring himself to regret it.

~

They stayed for another week, lazing around naked and exploring each other. Castiel began to teach Sam how to interpret the signs of nature, how to know when he was welcome and when to turn away. Jimmy taught Dean how to make a wand, and how to use it. They all taught each other how they liked to be touched, which was something of an adventure with four people. Dean learned Castiel hated to be touched lightly, that it made him shudder and shut down and, if it was bad enough, even rock himself. But he thrived on firm touches, on grips so tight they tipped over into a good sort of pain. Jimmy was the opposite—he loved to be teased, to be touched softly, to be taken slowly. Dean... well, he was pretty flexible. He liked it all, but he especially liked it when Sam took charge, when he directed all three of them with an ease that made Dean think it wasn't his first time doing it. And Sam seemed to love it, too, but just as much he loved the fifth night when they all took the power from him, pinned him down and praised him and made him take everything they wanted to give him.

On the eighth day, they left to get the Impala (and avoid the motel bill), but not for good. They had a  _ home _ now, and Dean found he was looking forward to knowing that, to knowing that there was an end to the string of motel rooms.

Jimmy cracked a joke about how Dean and Sam better share all the details if they had any fun while they were away. Castiel was quieter, but he accepted the kisses they offered.

Dean wasn't sure about Sam while they were on their own. He thought maybe it was just while they were with the twins, that maybe they wouldn't even think about it while they were hunting... only they did. They took down a wendigo just fifty miles away, and fell into bed together still bloody and singed, desperate to feel how alive the other was now that they could get so close.

They were gone two months, running down cases from Michigan to New York, then down all the way into Florida. Then slowly back up, chasing a werewolf through Georgia, burning a ghost in Kentucky, before finally barreling straight through Indiana and up, up,  _ home. _

They parked the Impala on an old logging trail in the woods and ran. They were breathless and laughing by the time they reached the cabin. Jimmy was sitting in a ring of some herb, chattering away to a small faery with butterfly wings, and Castiel was standing in the grass nearby, hands in his pockets, gazing out into the trees.

He spotted them first. He smiled, warm and huge and Sam and Dean kept running, laughing when they heard Jimmy let out a shout of greeting and chase off the faery.

They reached the twins and tumbled together into the grass, trading kisses that landed on cheeks and chins and noses as much as mouths.

And Dean, lying in a pile of limbs and warmth and laughter, thought,  _ we're home. _

~  
  


END


End file.
